Written in the Stars
by Griddlebone
Summary: Those touched by fate may see their paths written in the stars, but what of those with only a small role to play? A fateful decision changes Sango's life forever, leading her on the path of adventure and romance on the sidelines of a fairy tale. AU.


Disclaimer: _InuYasha _belongs to Rumiko Takahashi.

Author's note: This was written for the "decision" prompt at the livejournal community mirsan_fics. The word limit was a minimum of 500, but my imagination carried me a bit(!) beyond that. My undying thanks goes to psyco_chick32, for your support and encouragement regarding this story. Without you, I'd have given up before I'd even gotten started. This one's for you!

-x-

There was a commotion in the village when Sango returned, weary and dusty from her latest journey, but the hubbub had nothing to do with her. There was a visitor to the village. Or visitors. Nobody was quite clear on that.

It seemed that the visitors were mysterious, and in spite of the late hour everyone was guessing who they were and what their purpose might be. Sango was exhausted enough to pay little mind to it, beyond noting that her father was indeed holding an audience in the great room of their home, and that he had turned the rest of the villagers away. Rather than bother him or interrupt, she snuck around the house and went in through the back door, stowing her travel gear in exchange for a clean yukata.

On her way back out, she gave a wave to her younger brother, who hovered nervously near the doorway to the great room. Her next stop was the bath.

The village of Taijiya was situated in a fertile mountain valley but lacked streams warm enough in which to bathe, so the residents had long ago erected an enormous bathhouse. The price of its use was its maintenance, so each family took its turn in stocking and repairing the building. Those who worked outside the village as slayers and exterminators were allowed to use the bathhouse whenever they wished, while the others followed a set schedule. It did not matter now; there was no one inside anyway. Everyone was too busy gossiping about the visitors.

For her part, Sango was relieved. While she was not opposed to a boisterous homecoming welcome, she was also glad to have the chance to wash off the dirt from the road and relax a little before being officially welcomed home. How many times had she stood before the villagers, covered in grime and forcing a smile?

She smiled in earnest now, as she crept into the bathhouse. It had every amenity she could think of, including a massive steam room, but it was the soaking tub that Sango liked best. It was deep and set into the floor, heated by a fire below that the villagers maintained always at a slow smolder. It was like a man-made hot spring, warm and soothing. She luxuriated in the hot water and steam for a long time, working her hands over sore, strained muscles until the tension melted away.

But it was not to last: "Sister?"

It was her brother, Kohaku's voice that interrupted. She sat up a little straighter, suddenly conscious of how she had been slouching bonelessly against the edge of the pool. "Yes?"

"I told Father that you'd returned. He wants you to attend this meeting."

She nodded, though she knew he wouldn't see. "Alright. I'll be out in a moment."

She heard the door-mat flap back into place as Kohaku departed; when he was gone, she eased herself out of the soaking tub and got dressed, making sure she looked presentable. It occurred to her as she pulled her still-damp hair back that this might be yet another marriage proposal, and she frowned.

Still, it would not do to keep Father and his guest (or guests) waiting. She plastered a serene look on her face and crossed the village to the house she shared with her father and brother. She would come back later for the dirty, travel-worn clothes she had left in the bathhouse; everyone would know they were hers anyway. This time, when she reached her house, she did not sneak in the back, but went around front and entered the great audience room directly.

Her father was waiting for her, along with Kohaku and a single older man she did not recognize. This was a far cry from what the villagers seemed to think was going on. Upon noticing her entrance, the stranger - who looked to be about the same age as her father - bowed respectfully. Father inclined his head gently.

"Greetings, daughter," he said formally. "This is Masaru-sama. He has come to us with a request." As he went on, his tone shifted, becoming unreadable. "This concerns you, personally, Sango. Listen well to what he has to say, and give this request due consideration. But remember that in the end, it is your choice whether to accept or decline."

A marriage proposal, then. They had been through this routine before. Sango suppressed a sigh. They had interrupted her bath for this?

She had long ago lost count of the number of men who had sought her hand in marriage. Most of them had their eye not on her, but on her skills and the value of her knowledge. Taijiya were rare. To name one among his household would bring a man both prestige and a valuable source of income, should he choose to let his wife continue to practice her craft.

Sango wanted a husband and a family of her own... someday. But not yet. She could do far more good as a free Taijiya than under the command of some petty lordling or village head. She trusted her father's judgment when choosing which cases to attend and missions to undertake. She was not sure, to judge by the suitors she had thus far seen, she would be able to trust the man she married that much. And so as long as her father would grant her the choice in the matter, she would choose to demur.

So it was that Masaru's request took her by surprise.

"My lady, I bring word from the palace," he began, reciting by rote a message he had been given to bear, which seemed too dangerous to commit to paper. "I would plead you hear my case. The Princess Kagome, younger sister to Princess Kikyou and older sister to Prince Souta, is journeying abroad to be married." She knew of that already; the gossip had been everywhere when she was on the road. Everyone was talking about the potential alliance between the two kingdoms, the first in nearly five hundred years.

But she had heard darker whispers, too, that this Inuyasha was only a half-breed by-blow, got off the demon king's human mistress, and therefore unworthy of Princess Kagome... as if they would have liked the idea of a human princess wed to a full-blooded demon any better. Those who hated and feared demons had loose tongues around her, assuming from her occupation that she, too, despised such creatures. It was true enough that she hunted those lesser creatures, unthinking and angry, that sought to plague humans... but she and her village had no quarrel with those that would live in peace alongside their human neighbors. And that included the sovereign family of the lands to the west.

Masaru went on, as if unaware of her silent musings, "I have reason to suspect treachery. There are those that do not wish to see such a profitable alliance be forged, and so we would contract a bodyguard to protect her highness, one that might remain with her at all times without arousing suspicion. A handmaid trained in the arts of battle, particularly with regard to fighting demons."

Sango stared, unabashed. Whatever she had expected, it was not this. "What?" she sputtered, heedless of her own dignity or that of her family.

Her outburst startled Masaru, and it took him a moment to regain his composure. "Word has come to the palace of lady Sango of the village of Taijiya. The queen sends with me her request for Sango's presence, to determine if she is a fit match for Her daughter. If it is in accordance with your will, you will be contracted into the Princess's service until her wedding day, with a review of your service and an opportunity for future employment to be conducted at that time."

Her head fairly spinning, Sango protested, "This is a lot to consider, all at once."

Masaru nodded, then bowed respectfully. "I am aware of that, my lady Taijiya. As is the royal family. But time is of the essence, and we dare not waste it. I will seek your answer tomorrow, but I can delay no longer than that."

She mumbled something in response, though she would never know what, only that it was insufficient for one of her station; sensing her distress, Father took over. He sent Masaru off with Kohaku, instructing the boy to make their visitor comfortable in the small room that was reserved for guests, and promised to have an answer by morning. For her part, Sango remained where she stood, dumbstruck.

She knew that her skills were prized in the wider world. All Taijiya were in high demand lately, which was why Father carefully considered each request that came their way and chose only the most worthy for his slayers to accept... but she had not realized that she, specifically, might ever be in high demand. While it was not uncommon for women of her village to take up the sword and fight beside their men, it was not exactly common, either. Most of those that did fight were older now, and battle scarred, and would not pass for innocent royal handmaids. Of those in the village, she was the only one that might.

"Did you know, I turned down three more proposals while you were away," Father said, drawing her out of her thoughts. He sounded amused; when she looked up, she saw laughter in his eyes. "But I thought this one might interest you."

She nodded. "If it's true, it is a great honor to even be considered."

"It's true."

She stared at him, uncomprehending. He elaborated: "I have had word of this before today, Sango, but I thought it best to wait and see what would become of it. But now we have run out of time, so I give it to you to choose."

"Father..." She paused, sighing. "That's a long time to be away from home. And I only just got back."

"I know," he agreed mildly. "And that is why I did not make the final decision for you."

"But you'd be willing to send me off with some strange man, alone, if that is what I chose... How do we even know that he is who he says he is? Does he have proof?"

Her father smiled briefly. "He doesn't need proof. Masaru is no mere 'strange man', Sango. He is the captain of the Queen's Guard, and your uncle."

Her eyes widened. She had never heard of any uncles, or aunts for that matter, in her family. "You have a brother?"

He shook his head gently. "No, but your mother did. He was my closest friend growing up. It pained me when he left the village and took a position among the Queen's Guard, but I still trust him without question. If he says he is in need of assistance, then he is."

"So he really thinks there's a traitor that close to the Princess?"

"Yes."

"And that somehow, I'll be able to stop this traitor from doing whatever it is he plans to do."

"Yes."

"You do not think it will be dangerous, then?"

"It may well be dangerous... but if I felt I had ill-prepared you for danger, do you think I would let you travel alone, much less fight demons?"

"Fair enough," she mumbled, considering.

"Sango, you are the best warrior in our village. No matter what you choose to do, you will bring us honor."

"Even if I choose not to go?"

He nodded. "I don't doubt you'd find something equally valuable to do with your time."

As valuable as saving a Princess's life? She gave a wry smile. "I think I'd like to go. How often does a chance like this come up?"

"Not often," he responded. His expression had turned thoughtful. "I'll see to the terms with Masaru, and we'll draw up a contract."

Sango nodded absently, feeling excitement and apprehension both take hold of her. She always felt that way when taking on a new mission. Her father turned to leave, to follow after Kohaku and Masaru; Sango hugged her arms around herself.

"Take Kirara with you, too."

"But she's been helping Kohaku -"

Her father smiled gently. "I have a feeling you're going to need her more. He'll be fine without her for a while."

She felt oddly sentimental at the thought of working with her childhood companion again. The cat demon had been a daily fixture of her training ever since she began to learn swordcraft, but Sango had bid her play the same role for Kohaku when he came of age to begin training. They had seen little of each other for the past year or so, as Kohaku's training intensified.

"Father..."

"You should get some rest, Sango. You've had a long day today, and it looks like you'll have another long day tomorrow. You'll need your strength."

She nodded and obeyed, recognizing the suggestion for the order it was. Kohaku had already gone to bed, after seeing that Masaru was comfortable in the guest room. Sango made her way into the sleeping room the family shared, navigating by touch and memory in the dark, and settled gratefully into her bed. The mat was comfortable and familiar beneath her, the blankets thick and cozy. It had been too long since she had had this luxury, and she would depart again far too soon. She had better enjoy it while she could.

Lulled by the sound of her brother's breathing and the long-missed comforts of home, Sango fell into a deep and easy sleep, her mind turned forward, thinking already of the mission to come. She had a thousand-and-one questions and wondered, with no little amusement, if she would have time to see them all answered.

-x-

And so it was that Sango packed those meager belongings as might be needful, which turned out not to be much, saw that the contract was well-written and signed, and departed in the morning with Masaru. She found that she was quite shy in the presence of this uncle she had not known she had, and they passed the time in somewhat uncomfortable silence. There were hundreds of questions she wanted to ask him, about both of her parents, and why he had left the village of the Taijiya, but she did not put voice to those questions. There had to be a reason nobody had told her about him. She was not sure she wanted to find out what that reason was.

When they did speak, it was mostly him doing the talking, describing tersely what her obligations would be, and what story she was to tell the other servants should they inquire about her past. She would stick to the truth as much as possible, citing him as her uncle and her reference for gaining work in the palace. She was to describe herself as a younger daughter with few prospects in her home village, who had pleaded with her well-positioned uncle for assistance and had been granted an opportunity to prove her worth.

It irked her to have to lie, and to pretend to be less than she was, but she understood the need. If he suspected treachery within the palace, then it was of utmost importance that Sango's true purpose not be discovered.

They made good time, all things considered; it turned out that he had come by horse, as was fitting for a Queen's Emissary, and so Sango rode on Kirara's back to make the trip faster. It was a handful of days, much of that spent easing the horse down the mountains where the village of Taijiya was hidden, before they reached the capital city.

The capital was immense. Sango had never seen a city so large before, although she had heard tales of the splendor of the royal capital whispered among the Taijiya. It was a mass of buildings, seemingly thrown together every which way, crowned by the enormous and imposing royal palace. She recalled vaguely that this sprawling palace was but a place of luxury for the royal family, and that there were fortified castles to which they might retreat in times of war. It seemed unreal.

They were admitted to the palace without question, through one of the main gates. Masaru escorted her into the building after seeing to his mount, and brought her to the Princess Kagome's steward. There, he bid her farewell and disappeared, leaving Sango feeling somewhere between lost and overwhelmed.

The steward, a rotund man whose name Sango could never quite remember, showed her to her new quarters with the servants, informed her of her duties, and then introduced her to Princess Kagome. He practically shoved Sango into the audience room and hastily shut the door behind her. If she had felt overwhelmed before, it was nothing to what she felt now. She clutched Kirara tightly as she made the formal bow, thankful to have at least this one companion from home.

Princess Kagome gave a genuine, heartfelt smile when Sango finished with her bow. The Princess was striking; she was prettily petite with large eyes that seemed to shift from gray to black to silvery-blue and back again. But perhaps the most arresting thing about her was the sense of honest innocence one got when looking at her. It took Sango aback for a moment, with a shock that only grew deeper when she realized that she was the only servant present. They were utterly alone; for a Princess, Kagome certainly made no attempt at pretense.

"And who's this?" she asked, after proper introductions had been made.

It took Sango a moment to realize she was talking about Kirara. "This is Kirara... She's a friend of mine."

Kagome stepped closer to rub gently under Kirara's chin, earning a loudly purred response. "She's a demon kitty, isn't she?"

Sango had forgotten, for a moment, the rumors about the royal family. It was said that they possessed the ability to tell human from demon, and had special holy powers that the gods had not seen fit to bestow upon ordinary folk. And since Sango had learned long ago how to carry Kirara to disguise the fact that she had two tails, there was only one way Kagome could have guessed that the cat was a demon instead of merely unusually colored.

"Yes," Sango said, hardly daring to breathe.

"She's so cute," Kagome gushed, pausing to scratch Kirara gently behind the ears. The cat demon chirped happily. "I'll make sure no one bothers her." Seeing Sango's worried look, she added, "They aren't too fond of demons around here... but if I say to let her be, they have to listen."

"Thank you, your highness. I'm sure she'll appreciate it."

"I'm glad." Finally done with her inspection of Sango's companion, she turned her interest to Sango herself. "Is it true that you're a warrior?"

Sango nodded cautiously.

"Will you teach me to use a sword?"

The sudden question took her aback. "Uh, I think you might be better suited to learning the naginata, my lady," she protested, "Or maybe the bow and arrow. But I'm afraid I'm not very familiar with either of those..." Indeed, her training had focused on swordplay, poisons, and the great bone boomerang known as Hiraikotsu.

Kagome pouted. "I already know how to use a bow and arrow," she said, sighing. "And nobody wants to teach me anything else. How am I supposed to ever be of use to anybody?"

She looked so frustrated that Sango answered honestly. "On the battlefield... you're not, my lady. It's your job to stay safe, and not put yourself in harm's way." Seeing the Princess's pout, Sango felt her heart soften, almost involuntarily. "Look, if you think it's needful, I'll teach you to use a knife, in case someone is ever foolish enough to try to kidnap you."

It was a promise, of course, that she had no real intention of fulfilling. But if it would brighten the Princess's day...

Kagome flashed another brilliant smile in Sango's direction, when one of the room's many doors slid open and a servant stepped through, pausing to whisper something urgently to the Princess. Her expression darkened a bit at hearing whatever news the servant brought. She dismissed the young woman with a wave of her hand and turned back to Sango.

"It seems my mother wishes to speak with me," she sighed.

Sango nodded. "I understand, Princess Kagome-sama."

As she exited the room, the Princess glanced back over her shoulder. "Sango..." she said, already dropping the honorific from the name, "We'll be friends, right?"

Sango smiled. It was only a little forced. "Of course, Princess Kagome-sama."

-x-

It turned out that the wedding was not scheduled to take place for nearly two months; Sango had been contracted far in advance so she could learn to play the part of handmaid convincingly.

For the better part of a month, she saw the Princess for only an hour a day, and spent much of her time learning the finer arts of service - how to dress a lady and help her paint her face and style her hair; how to serve food and drink to the members of the court; the proper ways to address her betters, and how to make proper obeisance and blend unobtrusively into the background so that the courtfolk might go about their business unimpeded. She learned also which things were needful for a proper tea ceremony, how to arrange a lady's room for day and night, and a multitude of other things. It was enough to make her head ache, and it was only the beginning.

She also had to learn the names of the various nobles, as well as their relations to one another, which lands the great families ruled, and enough politics to make her well and truly glad she had been raised in a small village far removed from all the schemes and intrigues of the royal court. And this, she had to learn twice over, memorizing whatever might be useful in the court here, as well as what little was known of what the others called the demon court. They made it sound as if she and the others that would be sent with the Princess were going into hell. Sango feared they might be right.

If not for Princess Kagome, she did not think she would have survived it. At least, not with her sanity intact. She was not allowed to spend a great deal of time with the Princess, being of common birth, but was allotted a daily audience so that the Princess might gauge her progress. In that small span of time, somehow, and true to the Princess's prediction, they managed to become friends.

Kagome, as she insisted Sango call her in private, had the sort of sweetly charismatic personality that one could simply not help but like. And she was unlike everything Sango had expected a princess to be. She had studied for years as a miko, took daily archery lessons with a surly old guard, could read and write with ease, and considered all of her servants to be close friends. And that included Sango, from the very moment they met.

Such naivete was perhaps dangerous in a Princess, but like as not Kagome would never rule and so her parents had indulged her. The King was dead now, but if something should happen to the Queen, then Kagome's elder sister Kikyou would rule as regent until her younger brother Souta could take his rightful place as King. Alone among the royal family, Kagome was free to do as she liked.

Which included, Kagome divulged in a whisper on the night before their departure, writing letters back and forth with one of the lesser Princes of the country to the west. Everyone else called it the demon court, or demon lands. Kagome alone used its real name. She went on to tell Sango all about her relationship, such as it was, with Prince Inuyasha.

They had met as children, the last time a diplomatic party had ventured abroad from the western lands. Inuyasha had been gruff and unfriendly, but had fallen immediately in love with Princess Kikyou. She, of course, rejected him. He was a half-demon. Only half human. But Kagome had taken a liking to the boy with the puppy ears and had maintained a friendship with him ever since, a friendship that had eventually turned to love. It was such an advantageous match, for all that Inuyasha was a minor Prince, that eventually Kagome's mother consented to the union.

Sango listened half-heartedly to the tale, registering each detail into the portion of her memory reserved for all such useless facts she had been forced to learn in the past few days. She thought little of it, being focused on helping the Princess choose which of her many possessions to take with her for the wedding, until Kagome turned to her and asked, "Is there someone you like, Sango?"

Sango twitched. She should have known that was coming; after all, the other servants gossiped about her endlessly. Why should the Princess be any different, any less curious?

"No, Kagome-sama," she said with deliberate formality. "I am here to serve you, not search for a husband."

"I meant back at home," Kagome said quietly.

Sango shook her head. "No. Someday I'll get married and have a family, but right now I am a Taijiya."

"Oh. Ayako told me that you were barren and your husband left you, that's why you came to work for me."

"Then Ayako lied," Sango said stiffly. Ayako was younger than Sango by perhaps two or three years, being about fourteen; Sango had thought she was pleasant enough. Now she knew better, and bristled with it.

"I'm sorry," Kagome said, and there was genuine compassion in her voice. "I'll tell them -"

Sango shrugged. "Let them think that. They don't know my true purpose here, and it's best that they don't. I'll be gone before long anyway. Their words can't hurt me."

It was only half a lie. She guessed that Ayako and the others, who had served Kagome for many years already, were jealous of Sango's easily won status as favorite, and that this was the cause for their hurtful words. Very well. What she had said was half true, too. She would be gone after the wedding, and need bother herself with their gossip no more.

-x-

The day of departure arrived, and with it a bleak and cloudy sky. Sango thought it might be an ill omen, but the Shinto priestess that saw them off seemed to think little enough of it. As the pack horses and carts were loaded and prepared for the journey, Sango had very little to do but stand and watch with the Princess and her other retainers.

The other handmaids, of which Kagome was bringing no less than four, gossiped the time away; Sango joined in, but only a little, and even that was halfhearted. Ayako was one of the maids Kagome had chosen to accompany her.

It was nearing midday by the time everything was in order. The Queen briefly made an appearance, making a show of seeing her daughter off, but the other members of the royal family were not in attendance at all. That bothered Sango, enough that she said something about it to the Princess when they stopped for dinner that night.

It seemed a horribly cruel thing for Kagome's own family not to attend her wedding. Frustrated, Sango finally blurted it out: "Your mother and sister aren't coming?"

"No, they're not," Kagome said with a sad sigh. But she perked up again a moment later. "It's too dangerous right now, when we don't even have any long term contacts in place there. But it's okay. There'll be another ceremony, here, in the spring."

"I see."

"I won't need guards then, though... I'll have Inuyasha to protect me!"

Her unfaltering admiration for her husband-to-be - and her unquestioning forgiveness of her family - made Sango a bit uncomfortable. What did it feel like, to trust so blindly? The only person Sango would trust so unthinkingly was her own father, and even he had taught her to question, or was trying to; it was dangerous for a Taijiya to go into battle unquestioning, for where demons were concerned things were often not what they seemed.

"I hope you're right," Sango said. But she thought back on the things she had heard over the past few months, and could not help but worry.

But it seemed, as the days moved slowly by, that her fears were for naught. They stayed in sumptuous inns for the first several nights, although they had to cram several people into each room in order to fit. After that, things became rougher as they headed into the foothills and then the mountains that separated east from west.

It was at about that point in the trip that Sango decided it had been a really stupid choice to go with Masaru to the capital and fashion herself into some sort of handmaid for a Princess. She was not cut out for the politics of servitude, nor for the unquestioning loyalty and hyper-vigilance of a royal bodyguard. Slowly but surely, she could feel it wearing her down, dulling her instincts, and souring her mood.

The wedding party was huge and slow-moving, at least to Sango's eyes, sprawling over a vast area as it went. It made her nervous, even when they were 'safely' ensconced at a reputable inn. She felt like an open target, even though they were still in friendly territory and there had been no sign of any threat. But with all the things Kagome had wished to take with her - of which Sango had seen only a tiny portion - it was necessary to bring several carts and many porters, which only made things slower all around. And the royal palanquin... Sango found herself longing for the days when she traveled on her own as a Taijiya, or with a small party of other slayers.

So it was a good thing that one of the guardsmen, not knowing Sango's true purpose, took it upon himself as his especial duty to protect the Princess. Even with nigh on two dozen other guards milling about, some specially dedicated into the Princess's service since her birth, his presence made Sango feel a little better. Two pairs of eyes were better than one, when it came to ferreting out treachery.

This guard's name, as it turned out, was Muso. He had lovely features and a quiet, single-minded seriousness that was sometimes a bit off-putting. But he was very earnest and the other guards knew him and liked him well, and Sango found herself feeling much the same way toward him. He knew her by name and would sit beside her at the common meals and occasionally make small conversation; she counted him a friendly face amidst a sea of strangers.

It became obvious, as they headed into the mountain passes, that he had developed a crush on the Princess. The other guards had not yet noticed, but Sango had, and she would tease him gently about it from time to time. And he would blush and deny it, but only a short while later she would find him somewhere else, mooning over the Princess again.

She realized one night that he reminded her of her brother, Kohaku. Or, at least, how Kohaku might be in a few years. She only liked him better for it.

As they neared and eventually passed the western border, the guardsmen grew increasingly boisterous and rowdy. They were tense, looking for a fight and expecting it at every turn, and Sango did not like it. But she was only the Princess's handmaid, and there was no advice she could give to them that they would heed.

They traveled unmolested for two days, give or take, after passing the border (being in the mountains, it was difficult to tell exactly where the border was), and everyone had just begun to settle down again when they came upon the first sign of trouble. One of the guards, making his rounds, found a body.

It had belonged to a man, and it was fresh enough that the carrion creatures had only recently begun to find it. The body was marked by strange wounds and, the rumor went about the camp, his face had been chewed off. Sango gave a shudder when she heard; when the rumor reached the Princess's ears, she confessed that she felt sorry for the poor man, even though he had most likely been a brigand or bandit. Hardly anyone doubted that he had fallen ill of a passing demon patrol.

Muso, who had been one of the first on the scene, was greatly affected by it. He became withdrawn and sullen, and did not even make eyes at the Princess, but gazed at her rather sickly. He wandered, as if in a daze. Some of the other guards poked fun, or said (not entirely in jest) that it was proof that he was too young for such responsibility as he had been given.

By nightfall that evening, Sango could stand it no longer. She sat close beside him while they ate their dinner, keeping the Princess always in her line of sight, and talked to him. She had taken it hard, too, when she first saw a human slain by demons. She'd had her father there to help her through it; Muso had no one, if not her.

"Muso," she said calmly. He grunted in response, a new habit of his that she did not like very much. "It'll be alright."

That, he ignored. She sighed and added, "I know what it's like, Muso. I know it's not easy." Determined to win back her friend, she leaned close and whispered her deep, dark secret. "I am a Taijiya, Muso. I am trained to kill demons. And if we'd been closer when this happened, I would have tried to save this man's life."

But he ignored that, too. Frustrated, Sango took her leave.

They reached the first of the foothills the next day. Soon, they would reach the first towns along their route, and then move on across the flat, forested lands beyond to the capital. And then, Sango's job would be done.

She was not quite sure how she felt about that. Luckily, she had some few days in which to mull it over.

It was this that she thought of as she laid to rest one night in the Western Lands, staying close to Princess Kagome as always. They were camped now well within the forest; there was plenty of game to be had, so they dined on rabbits and fish from a nearby spring. The mood was light and festive enough that the Princess insisted on a bath for herself and her maids.

The spring was frigid, coming straight from the mountains as they had. And, while it was good to be clean again, Sango did not enjoy the bath one bit. She was glad when they returned to camp and bedded down for the night, listening to the sounds of the guards as they mingled about, the soft sounds that the horses made, the whispering of the water not far away.

Between the weariness that came with travel and her mind's fullness, Sango fell quickly into a deep and dreamless sleep, trusting to Muso, Masaru, and the other guards to keep watch for a while. She was not sure what woke her, but she came awake with a jolt, her heart pounding hard in her chest. It was very late; the camp around her was dark. For a moment, everything seemed normal.

And then she heard the screech of steel on - something. Bone or shell, she thought, maybe somewhat else. Her eyes went wide. They were under attack.

"Sango!" It took her a moment to recognize the voice that called her name. It was Masaru's.

"I'm here," she hissed, hoping he would hear above the confused din of the battle.

A dark figure loomed near, and resolved itself into Masaru's countenance as he drew closer. "Sango, find the princess. Take Kirara. Get away from this place."

Something glittered darkly on his face. Blood.

Sango gasped. "Masaru-sama! You're bleeding!"

"Pay no mind to me, child," he said, his voice oddly gentle. "You must take Kagome-sama and escape. We will follow as we can."

"I can fight," she insisted. "I can help."

He laughed. "The Princess would be better served if you made sure she was safe and out of the way."

And then he was gone, heading back into the fray. The back of his yukata - he'd apparently been in the group of guards that was off duty this night - was stained dark with blood.

Horrified, numb, Sango turned to the Princess. Kagome was already awake, watching Sango with wide, wary eyes. "We have to go," she whispered.

"Go where?"

"Away from here. It isn't safe."

Kagome frowned. "We can't just leave!"

Sango motioned for silence. "Would you rather die, Highness?"

Kagome shook her head.

"Then let's get moving. The guards will find us once they have everything under control here." At least, Sango hoped that they would. But after seeing the condition Masaru was in, she had her doubts.

She would have liked to grab a better arsenal of weapons, having only kept a single dagger beneath her pillow, but was forced to settle for only the one dagger and the twin blades that were hidden in the tekkou that she always wore. She had several more daggers and a wakizashi, but they were stowed with her gear for the night. She hated to leave the weapons behind, but time was of the essence. She grabbed the Princess, pausing only long enough to collect their sandals and for the Princess to don a long silk kosode, and fled.

They fled through the chaos of the camp and into the forest, Sango clutching Kirara to her chest with one arm, keeping a tight hold on Kagome with the other lest she lose the Princess in the dark. They could count on Kirara for flight, but that would be later, once they were out of sight. If any of the attackers saw them leave, they would lose their one advantage.

Onward they went until the fires from the camp were but specks of light in the forest; only then did Sango slow. She turned, watching and listening, torn. Masaru had told them to get away. By daylight, when the battle was done, their trail would be easy to follow. Yet she yearned to hide the Princess somewhere safe and return, to see if she could find an opportunity to turn the battle to their favor.

But she still did not know who - or what - had attacked, and so she stayed beside the Princess and did her best to quell her heart's conflict. She gave one last look over her shoulder, then indicated to Kagome that they should keep moving. They picked their way carefully through the forest for another hour or so before arriving at a small clearing.

By now the moon had crept high enough in the sky to provide a little more light, and while at first Sango thought they were alone, she quickly saw that someone was waiting for them. Something inside her constricted nervously. There was no reason at all for anyone to be out here at this hour of the night.

No good reason, anyway.

Sango froze the moment she laid eyes on the man, but he had already seen them coming and called out to them: "Come on out, ladies. I only wish to talk."

Kagome made to obey, but Sango stopped her.

"My name is Byakuya," the man continued, his voice soft and melodious. He sounded almost... bored. "My master Naraku wishes to speak with you, so if you don't mind, you'll be coming with me."

Sango drew her dagger and fixed him with a stony glare. "Kirara, be ready," she murmured, and felt the cat grow tense against her. She did not like the sound of this Naraku person one bit and was not about to blindly follow this Byakuya fellow.

Byakuya gave what looked for all the world like a shrug, and said, "Fine, if you won't come quietly, so be it." He gave a lazy wave of his hand.

It took Sango a moment to realize what had happened, but when she did, it took her aback. She stood no longer in the forest but on a familiar mountain path, one of the many hidden trails that led to the valley in which her village was hidden. Confused, she felt her feet carry her forward almost of their own volition.

The memory of her journey with Kagome, of the midnight battle in the camp and her flight through the forest faded quietly away.

She smelled smoke on the air, and something else. Blood, she thought distantly. It seemed only natural.

She rounded a corner, expecting her village to come into sight. Instead, she was greeted by her father's decapitated head, mounted on a wooden stake. She stumbled backward, realizing that it was flanked by dozens more stakes, each bearing what was left of one of the villagers. Behind them, the town burned.

She gasped, horrified.

Movement to her right caught her attention, but she turned an instant too late. "Die, traitor," whispered a man, cloaked in shadow. He held a bow in one hand, and raised it as he spoke, nocking an arrow and pulling back the string to its fullest. Before she could say anything, he released it; the bolt flew true and speared her through the neck.

For a moment, she felt nothing. And then she choked, tasting blood, feeling the muscles of her neck and throat fail to work properly. She couldn't breathe...

Overwhelmed by pain, confronted by the destruction of everything she loved even as she knew it couldn't be real, Sango fainted.

-x-

When Sango came to, her head was throbbing. It did not help at all that she was slung over someone's shoulder and was being carried unceremoniously to... somewhere. She craned her head carefully to one side, but could see nothing but plain, unremarkable wall passing by. She dared not risk turning enough to look the other way, across the man's back, lest she risk alerting her captor to the fact that she was awake.

There was, she realized, a second set of foot steps. Another man, then. And she guessed he had Kagome.

Masaru had been right when he suspected treachery. It was too convenient, otherwise. The camp had dissolved into the chaos of battle just as Byakuya came to collect the Princess. Someone had to have orchestrated the entire thing. But who?

She hoped it wasn't Masaru.

But as much as she hated to think it, he was the one that had sent her into the forest with Kagome. True, he had not told her which path to take, nor in which direction she should run, but he had been the one to send them away from camp and the protection of the guards.

She supposed it could just as likely have been an ambush, but they had seen no sign of others on or near the trail for days. If the attack had, indeed, been an ambush, someone had to have scouted to know their route so well. Or been informed in advance.

All of this only made her head ache fiercer. Like as not, she would find out what was going on soon enough. She had a feeling she was not going to like it.

The man carrying her, Byakuya, she thought, struggling to remember the color and pattern of his clothes, paused. A door slid open quietly. They moved again, entering what sounded like a much larger room.

She noted, idly, that there were fine reed mats upon the floor, and then her world upended. She had been heaved forward, dumped on the floor with a careless suddenness that left her nauseous and wondering if she would be sick. Kagome lolled next to her, looking no less ill, and a great deal more terrified.

Sango watched the whole thing with a sense of vague detachedness, a technique her father had taught her long ago after a client sought to avoid payment by force. It was a lesson hard learned; she had the scar on her chest, where he'd nicked her with a sword, to prove it. She had been afraid, then, terrified into disbelieving inaction. Not so, now. Now she cleared her mind, remaining as calm as possible, tamping down on her body's queasiness and looking for an opening.

"Just who," came a man's voice from behind her, one she did not recognize, "have you brought me, Byakuya?" He sounded displeased. "I asked for a Princess, and you brought me... this."

"I brought you a Princess," Byakuya said, his tone somewhere between insolent boredom and annoyance. He did not seem particularly pleased to be here. It was almost like he did not even care.

"My lord Naraku," said the other man, and Sango recognized his voice. She recognized it, and did not believe. She made herself look anyway. It was Muso.

"I am Muso, my lord," he went on. Sango twitched, or gave some outward sign of awareness, for Byakuya hauled her to her knees, keeping a firm grip on her arms lest she try anything. She looked up at this Naraku, whoever he was. It was dark and her vision blurry, and she could barely make out his silhouette at the far end of the room. A tall, imposing man, whose hair flowed in waves down his back. "You cast me out, giving me no face and no name. So I took this man's."

"So you did," Naraku mused.

"I was able to infiltrate their ranks unnoticed, my lord," Muso, or rather the creature that had killed Muso and stolen his identity, went on. Pride tinged his voice. Sango lowered her head, staring numbly at the ground. She had trusted him. "It was I that sent the Princess to Byakuya."

"You also sent me... this." Sango guessed he was gesturing at her. "I have no need of royal handmaidens."

"I thought she might interest you, my lord. She's not what she says," Muso said. "Do royal handmaidens usually carry the likes of these?" A large parcel hit the mats with a metallic clank. Her knives. Sango shuddered. She had trusted him, and had told him her secret.

Naraku came forward then. "Interesting. Let me see this Princess, then."

There was a scuffling sound to her left; Muso was pulling Kagome to her feet, holding her upright for inspection. She heard the sound of Naraku pacing, walking a slow circle around his prized captive; she couldn't bear to look. This was her fault, her failure. She had never even considered that Muso might be the traitor. And her folly had led them to a dire situation, indeed.

Naraku paused. Kagome whimpered, barely audible. Sango glanced over in spite of herself, catching sight of Naraku standing very close indeed to Kagome before she directed her gaze back at the ground. "Look at her hands, fool," Naraku snarled. "This is no princess!"

Suddenly, Sango was grateful for Kagome's unconventional hobbies; her archery practice had left her hands calloused and rough, unsuitably so for a Princess, anyway. If she thought that meant they would get off easy, she was wrong, for they hoisted her up next. She jerked, twisting to deliver an awkward kick that was more knee than kick to Byakuya's gut, and heard something tear. She had probably just ruined her kosode.

Unperturbed, Byakuya adjusted his grip and forced her to hold out one hand. Naraku inspected it, his glower growing more intense when he realized from her battle worn hands that Sango was what Muso said she was, and was not a Princess in disguise.

He grabbed her by the collar of her kosode, forcing her to look him in the eye. She hated him in that moment, more than she had ever hated anything before. "Where is the Princess?" he demanded, speaking slowly, as if to an idiot. He had decided, so quickly, that their party had been only a decoy, and that the real Princess was somewhere else. Well, then Sango would play along. It was the first opening she had seen since their capture.

"I'll never tell you," she growled back, with ferocity that surprised even her.

"I think you will," he said, a horrible smile crossing his face. Sango sobered quickly, suddenly worried again. "Take them to the dungeon. I will interrogate them tomorrow, after they have had time to consider their fates."

-x-

There was one thing Sango was grateful for: it was not Muso and Byakuya that took them to the dungeon. Whatever had killed the real Muso and stolen his identity was a cunning and horrifying creature, and she had no desire to try fighting Byakuya after he had overwhelmed her so easily. But luck was on her side, and Naraku wished to keep his minions at his side for questioning.

She and Kagome were therefore handed over to human guards and hauled unceremoniously into the depths of the mansion, where several cells - little more than tiny, filthy rooms with solid wood walls and doors - had been arranged into a dungeon. Sango was not about to go quietly. The trip into the dungeon had given her enough time for the worst of her nausea to fade and for her mind to clear. It was not a perfect opportunity. It would have to be enough.

She waited until their guards had tossed Kagome into the cell, then planted her feet solidly on the ground and refused to move. Both men were far larger and heaver than she, so she had to work quickly.

"You might wanna cooperate, girl, or you'll make this a whole lot worse than it has to be," the guard said, his mouth close to her ear. His breath was hot against her skin and made her shudder. Her face twisting into a scowl, she released the spring-powered blades that lay close to her forearms. No one had thought to check for those, and Muso had missed them when he had snooped through her belongings and stolen her knives.

Twin blades, each the length of her forearm and honed to a very fine edge, sprang free with enough force to rip through the sleeves of her kosode and through the ropes that bound her. The guard swore and released her, nursing suddenly bleeding hands. She seized the opportunity and snatched his sword from its sheath. By the time the other guard turned to see what the fuss was, she had landed two solid kicks and knocked the first guard over. She bashed him over the head with the hilt of his sword: once, and then twice, until his eyes rolled back and he fell unconscious.

She tumbled out of the way as the second guard charged her, and came up bristling with steel. The blades along her arms acted as sssurance that her opponent would not try to grab her, and she held the first guard's sword at the ready. It was heavier than she was accustomed to, and longer, but she thought she could use it effectively enough to defend herself.

She was barely prepared when the second guard charged her again. She parried his blow, but only just, and the force of it reverberated up and down her arms. He drove her back again and again, until her back was against the wall. She ducked to one side, diving into a roll and coming up thankfully out of reach. She did not think she would be able to knock this guard unconscious.

The thought of killing a human, even one that was trying to imprison or kill her, made her sick. She could probably make it, if she turned and ran. She would bet she was quicker and more agile than he was, even though he had the advantage of being familiar with the mansion. But she could not leave Kagome behind.

As it turned out, the Princess was more resourceful than Sango gave her credit for. While Sango was fighting with the two guards, she found a stone fully the size of her fist that had been left in the earthen floor of the dungeon and dug it out. When she saw her friend being cornered, something inside her snapped, and she threw the stone. It flew true and struck the man at the base of the skull; he dropped bonelessly to the floor, leaving Kagome and Sango to stare at one another.

Finally, Sango found her voice. "We have to get out of here before these two wake up."

Somehow, they did. It was a close thing, several times over, with the pair of them only just avoiding patrols of guards; if Sango had felt her instincts dulled by the tedium of the journey, she proved that day that they were anything but. For all that she had scarcely been paying attention to the route their captors took in leading them to the makeshift dungeon, she did an admirable job of finding her way out of first the dungeon, and then the mansion itself.

Her heart pounded with each corner they came to, fearing that they would be caught and her attempts would be in vain, but it seemed that their absence had not been noticed yet, for none of the guards were on alert. She could only pray that they would not encounter any demons; a demon's heightened senses would detect them much more quickly than most humans could.

The trickiest part was finding an exit to the outside, and escaping through it undetected. Thankfully, the mansion appeared to be populated solely by guards and the man called Naraku; there were no servants to avoid, and when they finally found the servants' quarters, they were empty.

It gave them a moment to catch their breath and consider their situation. Only a moment, no more, because if their absence had not been noted yet, then it would be soon. They needed to be well away before that happened, or they would simply be captured again, and she doubted Naraku would make the same mistake twice.

There was a door at the far end of the room. Sango prayed it would open onto a courtyard and not into yet another nondescript hallway. It did. After a perfunctory glance around, Sango motioned Kagome over.

It was bright daylight outside, perhaps a little past midday. Sango would have preferred darkness, but they did not have the luxury of waiting. Already, in her mind, she could hear the alarm being raised. She peered into the courtyard through the tiny crack she had left the door open, the biggest she dared, searching for some way out. They had not come this far to be cornered and slain in a walled courtyard. As far as she could see, the wall went on uninterrupted.

But there, on the edge of her vision, was a low-set ornamental tree. It was half withered and had obviously seen better days, but from this distance it looked like it might put them within reach of the top of the wall. It would have to do.

She opened the door a little wider, pointing and explaining her plan to Kagome. The Princess listened, nodding, her expression drawn and worried. "I don't like it," she said at length.

"I didn't ask you to like it, Kagome. But I think it's our only chance."

After a final check to make sure the yard was still clear, they opened the door and raced to the tree. It was smaller than she had thought, and feeble. They would have to pray it could support their weight.

The wall was only half-again as tall as a man. Only. It would still be a risky climb. It made Sango terribly nervous.

Kagome clambered up into the tree, fearless. Sango followed, giving the Princess a boost upward to help her get up onto the wall. She stared, torn between amusement and consternation, as the Princess somehow managed the feat without losing one of her fancy slippers and without so much as snagging the fabric of her kimono. Shaking her head to clear it, Sango gathered her strength and leaped.

Her fingers caught the edge of the wall, barely, and for a moment she thought she would fall and have to try again. And then Kagome was there, gripping her arm strongly and pulling up and up. Sango swung her legs to the side and managed to hook an ankle over the top of the wall, suddenly, stupidly glad for the torn seam of her kosode that gave her the freedom of movement to do it.

For a moment she flopped gracelessly on her stomach atop the wall, catching her breath. But only for a moment before she forced herself to sit up and take stock of the situation. On the other side of the wall, a sizeable town spread out before them. Perhaps they would be able to find a place to hide, after all. Perhaps a village family not too overfond of their lord would give them a place to hide for a day or two, or a temple might offer them sanctuary.

"Let's go," she said, slipping down the other side of the wall. She landed hard, then turned to assist the Princess, only to see that Kagome had already jumped. They paused only a moment longer, drawing only a handful of strange looks. Most people, she noted, kept their eyes averted from the wall and the mansion beyond. This Naraku, whoever he was, was not loved, then. That was good. It might actually help them.

Sango led the way through the unfamiliar streets, keeping a firm grip on Kagome's wrist. She moved swiftly, but avoided running because it would draw unwanted attention. They were lucky enough to find the town congested with people for market day, they could not afford to throw away that advantage, however small it might be. Naraku's men would be after them, and soon.

Then she saw it: a Buddhist temple.

"This way," she said, her words lost in the rush.

She kicked off her sandals, scooped them up, and dashed into the temple. Kagome followed suit a second later, and Sango slid the door shut.

"Thank you, Buddha, for sending such a wondrous gift to such an unworthy servant."

Sango whirled, her eyes wide with shock. A young man wearing the dark robes of a monk was eying her - and Kagome - appreciatively. He might have been attractive - he certainly had fine features, mysterious, dark eyes, and a pleasant voice - if he was not so obviously appraising them like bolts of fine cloth or choice pieces of meat.

Seemingly oblivious, Kagome moved toward him, pleading, "Please, Houshi-sama, you must give us sanctuary!"

He clasped her hands in his, his face showing nothing but earnest concern. It made Sango suspicious. "Of course! But... what kind of trouble could two lovely young ladies possibly get into?"

There came the sound of heavy footsteps outside on the porch. "Big trouble, Houshi-sama," Sango cut in, her voice inflecting a respect and formality that she did not feel. "If you'll give us a place to hide and send those men away, we'll be glad to explain."

He did not hesitate. "There's a room at the back of the temple, where the head monk sleeps. You can hide in there. There is a screen along the right wall. Hide behind it, just in case these men insist on checking."

Praying that the monk would not turn on them the moment they were out of sight, Sango ushered Kagome into the back room. A short, fat man lay on the floor of the back room, snoring loudly. There was a mostly empty bottle of sake in his hand. Sango frowned and stepped around him, pulling the partition screen out from the wall and ducking behind it. So far the young monk had spoken true.

Her heart was beating fast, awash with exhilaration and fear. She could practically feel Kagome trembling behind her. In the other room, she could hear the monk talking to Naraku's men, but the voices were muffled and she could not make out what they were saying. Still... she had a feeling that man could talk anyone into believing just about anything.

The temple was silent for a long time after the voices faded and the door shut again. Sango was beginning to grow worried when she finally heard the sound of steps approaching, and the young monk poked his head into the room. "They're gone. You can come out now," he said, adding, "It'd be a shame to keep two such as you shut away in a store room all night."

She and Kagome made their way back into the main room of the temple, taking care not to disturb the drunken man, who was still sleeping on the floor of the room in which they had hidden.

"It's quiet here," Sango commented. "You are the only student of this temple?"

"Yeah, it's just Mushin and me. Most of the people around here are demons, or have some demon blood in them. It makes them nervous of the temple, even though it's been here for ages," he replied, his voice pleasant. Sango mumbled something agreeable, noting with some chagrin the wide-eyed way Kagome was looking around at the temple.

"So, tell me," the monk went on, leaning a bit too close to the Princess for comfort, "What brings you two to this temple on this night?"

"We have to find Prince Inuyasha!" Kagome blurted out.

Sango groaned. "You shouldn't have said that," she muttered, even though she knew it was poor form to correct or reprimand a royal.

"Oh," Kagome said, a horrified, innocent look on her face. Sango knew she had intended no harm; it was not her fault that Kikyou was the sister that had been taught discretion and statecraft, while Kagome was allowed to indulge her stranger whims. "I'm sorry!"

"Don't apologize, just hope we can trust this guy."

"I assure you, I am most honorable and trustworthy," the monk supplied.

Sango wondered if perhaps she ought to start digging her own grave. As it turned out, she did not have a lot of time to dwell on her worries. Time was of the utmost importance; she had a feeling that Naraku's men would not give up their search so easily. If they had not already figured out that Kagome was the Princess, they would surely want to follow these 'servants' to see if they would lead to the true prize.

"Houshi-sama," she said dryly, "You had better mean what you say."

"Call me Miroku," he insisted. "And I would never say such things in jest." His voice was serious when he spoke, but Sango watched the way his hand inched ever closer to Princess Kagome's royal bottom, and doubted.

"Well, Houshi-sama," she retorted, using his formal title out of spite, "it's a bit of a long story. Will you hear?"

He nodded assent; once they had all made themselves comfortable, sitting clustered together on the floor of the temple, the girls told him their story. Kagome spoke a great deal more than Sango, who felt they should perhaps not reveal everything to this Miroku fellow right away. She was also preoccupied with stitching her torn kosode back together - Miroku scrounged up a robe for her to wear, and needle and thread for this purpose - but added information where she thought Kagome's tale left too much out, or cautioned the Princess when she felt too much was being revealed. Together they managed to make him understand the danger, and the urgency, of their position, and in turn he shared some small tidbits of information about himself.

This was an ancient temple, built here long before the demon-peoples had migrated near, or so legend had it. And he... he was an orphan, born nearby and raised for the most part by Mushin, the older, drunken man who was currently passed out in the storage room. And he greatly disliked the idea of two women traveling alone with danger on all sides.

He saw to it that they were fed and supplied, and Sango was rather unsurprised to see that he provided them with enough supplies for three. She knew what he was about before he even made the offer to accompany them, and glanced imploringly at Kagome, hoping in vain that the Princess would understand and bid the monk stay behind. But Kagome had taken a liking to him, and seemed perfectly happy to have him along.

"Of course you can come with us!" she replied, her voice a happy sing-song.

Sango sighed.

"Look at it this way, Lady Taijiya," the monk said. "The men who are looking for you are looking for two women alone. And this will afford you a measure of disguise. She can be my sister -" Sango had to admit, they had the same deep black hair and twilight gray eyes, but that was where the similarities ended; aside from coloring, the two looked nothing alike. "- And you can be my fiancee."

She twitched visibly at that. "I'll do no such thing!"

"I'm not asking you to play the part in truth," he said, shrugging, seemingly indifferent to her displeasure. "Only in public, if people take notice of our group. The deception will help protect your Princess."

He was right, of course. But that did not make the necessity sit any better with Sango. She might accept it, but she did not have to like it.

-x-

They slipped out of the village under cover of darkness, moving through the streets unseen, and not stopping to make camp until they were quite some distance away and the sky was just beginning to grow light. Miroku led the way. He was, after all, the most familiar with the village and surrounding countryside, and Kagome trusted him. Sango was not so sure they could afford to put their lives in his hands, but that was not the worst part.

She could accept that Kagome had given her an order and that she had to obey. What she could not accept was that the damn monk seemed incapable of keeping his hands to himself. Once he found out that Kagome was, in fact, a Princess, he respected her position and deemed her to be off limits. This, it turned out, was why he had decided to disguise her as family. Unfortunately for Sango, that limitation did not extend to her. And that was why he'd decided she would play the part of fiancee.

It did not matter how many times she protested, nor how violently she rebuked him for it, his hand always seemed to find its way back to some inappropriate spot on her anatomy. On their second day traveling together, he made a number of mostly futile attempts at touching her, and she snapped. "That's it! You're walking in front!"

"If you insist!" he said, his voice cheerful. He obeyed the command, but made sure to cast a flirtatious look back at Sango first.

Kagome watched silently, her eyes filled with mirth.

"Why did we bring him with us, again?" Sango grumbled.

Kagome giggled. "Because it looks less suspicious than two women traveling alone? Because we'd have a better chance in a fight with him around? Besides, he's only playing. He didn't mean to offend you."

"What is he, a misbehaving puppy?" Sango muttered, glowering. Kagome only laughed harder.

They had by now found their way back into the forest they had been traveling through before, though here it was far denser than before, with trees and brush growing close against the road, which had itself become little more than a winding forest trail. Sango knew they needed to be vigilant here; an ambush could be lying in wait anywhere, and they might not see it until it was too late. With three pairs of eyes watching, they might have been fine. But Kagome did not know what to look for, and the monk seemed more intent on distracting Sango than helping her keep watch.

And Miroku's distractions were why, Sango thought, none of them noticed the demon in their path until it was too late. Even she had barely caught sight of it, her breath catching in her throat, before it charged toward them in a rush of flames. Large padded feet carried it forward; bright red eyes gleamed.

"A demon! Stay back!" Miroku warned, only just managing to get out of the way, himself. He brought his staff around and into a defensive position as he did; Sango had the fleeting thought that at least the shakujou was useful for something more than the annoying, metallic jingling made by its many rings.

The demon paid none of this any mind. Its gaze was focused squarely on Sango.

"Kirara!" she shouted, her heart fairly bursting with joy to see her companion alive and unharmed. To the monk, she added, "If you harm her, I'll kill you myself."

He turned to stare at Sango curiously, watching as the demon came to a halt directly in front of her. "You know this creature?"

"She's a friend," Kagome said, smiling. "Although I don't remember her looking quite like that..."

"I told you that I am a Taijiya. Did you doubt it? This is Kirara. She may be a demon, but she has been my loyal companion since I was a child," Sango explained. Kirara rumbled happily and transformed, in a burst of flames, back into her more usual guise. Sango scooped her up and into a bone-crushing hug. "I missed you, my friend," she whispered into the cat's thick fur.

Kirara chirped a response and wriggled free of Sango's grip, climbing onto her shoulder instead. She had not realized just how much it would mean to have Kirara with her again; she had hope now, even if just a little, that some of the others from the traveling party had escaped the battle unharmed. She had been avoiding the thought of it, knowing that she and Kagome would likely both end up dead if she broke down under the strain of fear and worry. There would be time, later, to worry.

"We had better keep moving." It was Miroku that spoke. Sango realized, a bit embarrassed, that she had completely lost track of what he and Kagome were talking about.

"What do you suggest?"

"From here?" He thought for a moment. "It would be stupid to just push for the palace. It's too far away and we'd end up out in the open for most of the trip..."

"You really think Naraku's men will come after us, then?" Kagome asked, her voice betraying nervous excitement.

Miroku grinned wryly. "You don't spend much time in that village without realizing that Naraku gets what he wants, one way or another. And if he wants you, I don't doubt he's already got hunters prowling the forest for the slightest sign of you, now that he won't have found you in the village."

"I take it you're not a big fan of his," Sango said dryly.

The monk's expression turned ever so slightly darker. "No. He is the reason my parents were killed. Though he would say I owe him my life... It amused him to let me live."

"But... why?" Kagome's eyes were wide, horrified; she had spoken without realizing.

The darkness in Miroku's face flitted away, replaced by wry laughter. "The men in my family have a certain... fondness for women. It offends him."

Sango felt a pang of guilt. She did not think he was lying. Yes, he was trying to excuse his lechery as a family inheritance over which he had no control. Yes, it was annoying. But he did not deserve to see his parents killed because of it. To live with that knowledge, even as he became like the father who had been slain... knowing Naraku might choose to kill him for the same crime...

She had thought nothing of slapping him when his actions displeased her, and he'd met her abuse with a smile. How much had she really hurt him in her carelessness? She doubted he would tell her, even if she had the courage to ask. But at least now she knew. She could do better now.

"Enough of that," Miroku said lightly, "No need to dwell on the past. And as for the future, I know of a Shinto shrine not too far from here. The priestess there will give us sanctuary."

"How long will that take, do you think?" Kagome sounded eager; Sango recalled that Kagome had once trained as a miko, and probably had a soft spot for shrines because of it.

The monk shrugged. "If we keep going, we can probably be there by tomorrow night."

By unspoken agreement, they started walking again, following Miroku down the path. The forest grew less dense ahead of them, allowing them to catch glimpses of blue sky and gray clouds, patches of sunlight dappling their path. It looked like a storm might be rolling in.

"If we didn't have the monk, we could just use Kirara and fly," Sango murmured, casting a pointed look at Kagome. The Princess looked a little distressed, at the prospect of leaving the monk behind or it being her decision that led to the problem, Sango could not say. "But she can't carry three people for very long."

"We can't just leave him behind," Kagome said. For a moment, Sango thought about pointing out that yes, they could, but she bit her tongue on it. Kagome was, after all, not just some traveling companion, but a Princess. She might be inclined to let Sango argue with her, but Sango knew it would reflect poorly on herself and her family to do so.

Miroku was idly watching the sky as he walked, content to let Sango and Kagome bicker their way to a solution. "Get under the trees," he said suddenly.

"What?" Sango managed; Kagome's eyes went wide.

"There's something flying around up there," Miroku went on, "and it doesn't look particularly friendly."

Sango cast a hurried glance skyward, confirming that the monk was not just making things up, then pushed Kagome ahead of her and into the trees. What she had seen worried her: Byakuya, drifting lazily along aboard what looked for all the world like an enormous origami crane. She had a feeling she knew exactly what he was looking for.

"Okay," she sighed once they were all safely out of view, "Flying is out. Looks like we'll be walking."

-x-

And walk they did, stopping only at nightfall and heading out again the next day. They left at first light and walked until it was nearly dark. The sky clouded over and grew darker as the afternoon progressed, threatening rain. Miroku was in high spirits in spite of everything, and his good mood proved contagious; Sango realized he had offered to come with them due to equal parts desire to help and urge to wander. He would have been a pleasant companion and a good addition to their group, if he would just learn to keep his hands to himself.

Ever since his confession of his family's lecherous tendencies, he had been even more incorrigible than before, as if the knowledge somehow offered an excuse. Even so, Sango was beginning to find his behavior easier to bear, knowing a bit more of his story. Now, instead of slapping him for each offense, she merely pried his hand away whenever it found its way onto her backside.

Kagome found all of this to be very amusing, even endearing. She had taken an immediate liking to the strange monk, and obviously hoped that Sango would grow to like him as well. And she almost did.

He was cheerful in spite of the long walk, and amply demonstrated his ability to make light conversation. Even Kirara liked him, though this was possibly due to the way he kept sneaking her tidbits of the smoked fish they had brought with them to eat.

Between the low murmur of conversation, punctuated occasionally by a giggle from Kagome or a chirping mew from Kirara, and the soft, metallic jingling of the rings atop the shakujou staff Miroku carried, their group seemed almost carefree. Save for the constant glances toward the sky and the care they took to avoid stepping out from underneath the cover of the trees.

Sango noted, with a certain dour jealousy, that Kagome could walk alongside the monk unmolested. Shaking her head as if to clear the foolish thoughts away, she started keeping an eye out for a suitable place to make camp. It would be a bad idea to keep going after dark, she thought.

Up ahead, the trail split into two. "Which way do we go, Houshi-sama?"

Miroku looked thoughtful. "The trail on the right leads to the shrine directly. To the left... it's a longer route, but it ends in the same place, or close enough."

"Then we should take the shorter path," Sango murmured. She wanted the decision made quickly, for the road was wider here and more exposed. Indeed, even as she spoke, she realized that the right-most path only hugged the edge of the forest and would offer them little protection or cover should Byakuya fly by again.

"It's the more dangerous of the two," Miroku said. "There's not a lot of cover. But if we go quickly it may be safe enough."

"I think it might be too late for that," Kagome said, her voice very quiet. She was pointing back the way they had came, and up. Miroku and Sango turned to look; there was something moving about in the air. It was far away and hard to see, but Sango had little doubt it was Byakuya. Her heart pounded and she was sure they had been seen.

"We'll have to make a run for it," she managed. "With Kirara, you can probably make it to the shrine, Kagome."

Miroku cut in smoothly, "If I may make a suggestion?"

Automatically feeling defensive because of who was doing the asking, Sango cautiously responded, "Yes?"

"Take off your kosode."

"What?" It was half snarl, half incredulous outburst.

"And do it quickly," he countered, his expression deadly serious as he turned to Kagome. "Your kimono, too."

Sango glowered. "Just what are you thinking?"

"That those men behind us will chase after whoever is wearing that kimono, and not notice right away if her handmaid is missing."

Sango's eyes went wide, as she suddenly understood. Byakuya and Muso were, at this point, only seeking Princess Kagome. They had probably figured out their error, or Muso had made his case for Kagome being the real Princess... and once they caught her, they had no need of her handmaid. A lone human female had no chance, or good enough as none, of gaining entry to the palace, much less arranging an audience with a Prince. Inuyasha, beloved of Kagome, might have heard her, but there was no guarantee that the palace guards would deliver word to a hanyou Prince.

For Kagome, she rather thought they might. In spite of her innocent naivete, she could be quite convincing when she wanted to be. And with Kirara, she might stand a chance.

With Miroku and Sango, facing down two powerful demons... she had no chance. None that Sango could see, at least.

They made the change in record time, though by the time it was done, Sango felt horribly constricted and self-conscious in Kagome's long - and ill-fitting - kimono. She ended up tucking the trailing hem up and into the obi around her waist; it was inelegant and left her legs bare nearly to the knees, but it was better than tripping every five steps.

"What will you do?" Kagome was asking the monk. Sango pulled the ribbon from her hair, and quickly tied the Princess's hair into a reasonable imitation of the style she usually wore. It would have to do.

In the fading light, it just might work.

"You're going to take Kirara. Fly as low and as fast as you can until you can gain the temple I told you about. You'll know it. It's set on a high hill, with a great tree growing from the central courtyard."

"Yes, but what about you?" Kagome sounded genuinely distressed.

"We're going to take the long way around and see if we can't lose these guys in the forest when the storm hits."

Kagome turned to Sango. "You're going to try to outrun them in the forest at night? In a storm? Are you sure?"

Sango smiled. "I've been through worse, Kagome-sama. And I have to admit, this is much more what I am used to than what I've been doing for you. We'll be fine."

She helped Kagome settle herself on Kirara's back, fearful with each passing moment that they would be caught. But as Kirara took off, flying as fast as she dared among the trees, there was still no visible sign of Naraku's men. Sango watched as Kirara disappeared in the distance, staring for a long moment at the spot where she finally vanished.

"I should have just sent her all the way to the palace," she muttered, shaking her head. "This is folly."

"She wouldn't make it. She doesn't have the stamina for a ride like that, I should think."

She chuckled a little. "She's stronger than she looks."

"Yes, I'd imagine she is, to marry a demon prince, and willingly at that," Miroku mused. "Let's go. We've got a long walk ahead of us."

-x-

Only a short while later, it started to rain. It began with a gentle drizzle, but within minutes it had become an outright downpour. For the rest of the day and then well on into the night, they journeyed through the forest in the rain, hardly daring to stop. There was no sign of Byakuya or Muso, but Sango knew that one or both of them would be hot on their trail, and the fear of discovery and capture was ever-present.

Miroku led the way, being at least passingly familiar with the area, and Sango followed, her mood growing increasingly sour. She was soaked to the bone and freezing, but pride would not allow her to complain nor to show weakness, so she kept going even when it was sheer stubbornness that kept her on her feet. By the time Miroku decided they would have to stop for the night, she was just about ready to beat him into a bloody pulp.

"I think we had better stop," he said, speaking loudly to be heard over the rushing rain.

"We should keep going," she argued. "Muso and Byakuya could be right behind us."

"The storm's only going to get worse," he responded. As if to prove his point, a fantastic bolt of lightning struck quite close by, followed by the low rumble of thunder. "We need to find shelter before it does."

Grudgingly, she had to agree. The wind was picking up, lashing them with rain and low-hanging branches. She would have traded her last knives for a warm, dry place to get out of the rain. But she was not lucky enough for that, and had to settle for a halfway sheltered nook among the roots of a tree, over which Miroku hung one of their blankets to form a makeshift tent. Sango watched dispassionately as he piled branches and downed foliage on top of it for reinforcement and camouflage, and at last deemed it worthy of occupation. They crammed into the space together, shivering and unhappy, but thankfully out of the wind.

"Get some rest," Miroku said softly. "I'll keep watch."

She shook her head. "I'm not stupid enough to trust you."

He chuckled. "You don't trust me, but you'll follow me through a forest in the middle of the night, and let me send your Princess -"

"I meant that I don't trust you to behave while I sleep."

"I won't do anything improper. You have my word."

She glowered at him in the dimness, barely able to see anything, except during the intermittent flashes of lightning. He actually looked serious. She shivered. Somehow, he tucked an arm around her and pulled her close against him; he was warm, at least, if no less damp than she was. "Rest, at least," he said. "I'll not sleep tonight. You'll have to be alert tomorrow."

In spite of herself, she did relax a bit, or at least as much as the weather allowed. She hoped that, wherever she was, Kagome was safe and warm. At least she had Kirara to huddle against; all Sango had was a sodden bedroll-turned-tent and the damned monk.

-x-

Sango felt as if she had only just drifted off to sleep when the monk's hand, gripping her shoulder and shaking gently, drew her back to wakefulness. She blinked her eyes rapidly to clear away the last of the night's bleariness, and noted that the storm had passed, giving way to a lovely pink dawn.

She was exhausted and stiff with cold, and wanted nothing better than to crawl back into the sopping remains of their shelter and sleep for a year. Instead, she forced herself to her feet and followed the monk back to the road.

They reached the shrine within a couple of hours. It was lovely, a series of fine wooden buildings set high on a hill in the middle of the forest. Even as they hiked up the enormous stone stair that led to the shrine, she found herself wondering if Miroku had called a halt to their trek so close to their destination just so he could say he had spent the night alone with her. But she dismissed the thought almost immediately, gauging that he had been as exhausted as she.

Kagome spied them coming, and came running out to greet them, with Kirara close on her heels. She was dressed in a miko's garb, and had a huge smile on her face. Seeing her in such high spirits only made Sango feel more annoyed. Of course she was happy. She had spent the night warm, safe, and dry, with the miko Kaede to watch over her. She had not spent it dodging Naraku's goons, soaking wet, in a dark and unfamiliar forest, with only a perverted monk for company. The perks of being Princess, Sango thought dourly.

"Look at you!" Kagome exclaimed. "You're soaking wet!"

Even Kirara had noticed, and was giving her a wide berth when she ordinarily would have catapulted herself into Sango's arms by way of greeting. Sango sighed. "That's what happens when you spend the night -"

"Yes, my lady," Miroku said, bowing with a flourish and neatly interrupting Sango, who glared at him. "But we have arrived at last. And on time, I believe."

"Kaede made extra breakfast, so help yourselves," Kagome chirped.

An old woman emerged from the same building that Kagome had come out of, and headed toward them at a much more sedate pace. Miroku saw her coming and rushed over. "Kaede! As lovely as ever, my old friend!"

"You are far too flattering for an old woman like me," she responded, but her face was filled with mirth.

Sango stared at her for a moment, before she remembered herself and looked away. She had thought Kaede would be, well, a lot younger. Miroku did not really seem the type to be respectful of his elders, much less be friends with them.

"Nonsense!" Miroku was saying, ignoring Sango's discomfort. "Now, you've already met Kagome... and this is Sango, the royal bodyguard."

Sango bowed stiffly. "I am pleased to meet you, Kaede-sama."

"Now, now," Kaede said, waving a hand dismissively. "There's no need for such formality, here."

"It's unlucky to dishonor a holy woman, and we need all the luck we can get," Sango protested. She already liked the old miko in spite of herself. There was just something inherently pleasant about her.

"Well, come along then, if you insist," Kaede continued, seemingly resigned to Sango's insistence on propriety. "Let's get some warm food in you and see about some dry clothes."

-x-

"He's awfully cute."

Sango blinked. "Who?"

"Miroku. The monk."

She had to admit, Kagome had a point. He looked like a totally different man without his monk's robes, which were currently hung in one of the sheds to dry, along with Sango's kosode, Kagome's kimono, and the rest of their travel gear. Kaede had provided both Miroku and Sango with white yukata to wear while their clothes dried out, in spite of Sango's protests that her own nearly-dry kosode would be fine.

She sat with Kagome under one of the shrine's many well-kept trees and watched the monk when he had his back turned, wondering. She had been perfectly happy despising him and believing there was nothing at all admirable about him. She had told herself a hundred times during their journey that she would be glad when it all came to an end and she need never put up with his antics ever again. And yet...

And yet.

Sango sighed. He had shown a loyalty and quick wit that she would have praised in anyone else. And the only thing that kept her from openly admitting it was that she hated his casual touching of her person. No, she thought, frowning. That was not quite right. It was not that she hated it. It was just... inappropriate. Distracting.

Such things were meant to be between a man and woman... not a man and woman and half a dozen assorted witnesses. When he had put his arms around her in the forest to keep her warm, it had been a touching gesture; when he grabbed for her butt in the middle of a street, in full view of anyone else that might happen to be around, it made her seethe. He had not done the latter yet, not since they had arrived at the shrine, but she found herself almost unconsciously bracing for it.

In some ways, that night in the forest had been a welcome reprieve. Unfortunately, it also put the lie to his insistence that he merely could not help himself when it came to feeling her up, a fact that she found both frustrating and annoying. Couldn't he see that she would like him a lot better if he would just be serious for a while?

Kagome giggled, startling her out of her reverie.

Blinking rapidly, Sango realized she had completely forgotten herself. Worse, she had been staring. And worse still, Miroku had noticed. He was giving her a rakish grin; she just knew he was going to say something, and then she would die of embarrassment.

"I think that's enough, Houshi-sama," Kaede chided gently, though to judge by her serene expression she might have been speaking only of the chores he had been attending. "Let's go inside for a bit." She motioned for the girls to come, too, and led the way into the main building of the shrine. There, she set to work making tea, and indicated a futon that had been laid out.

"Rest, Houshi-sama," she said, indicating the bed. "I think I've had you do enough work for one day, and you must be on your way soon."

Miroku bowed his head politely. "Thank you, Kaede-sama, you are too kind."

"It is nothing," the priestess demurred. "We will have ourselves some tea, and see what we can do about your clothes." Sango had a feeling she was referring to Kagome's ruined silk kimono, but Kaede did not elaborate, but instead set about handing out tea cups and serving the tea.

They drank the tea in silence that would have been comfortable, had Sango not been constantly keeping an eye on Miroku. He had caught her staring at him, and then let it go... far too easily. It was not like him at all to just let something like that drop, and she fully expected him to make some comment on it at some point, and she meant to be ready for it.

But the monk's expression was carefully neutral, and he made no mention of it, even when Kaede indicated that they should leave so he could get some rest. Sango was dreading what would come next, the decision of what to do with Kagome's ruined kimono, and must have given some sign of reticence that the old priestess picked up on.

Kaede's expression turned thoughtful, and she paused on the threshold, considering. "What about you?" she asked, turning to Sango. "Would you like to rest instead?"

Hiding a yawn behind one hand, Sango hook her head. Someone had to keep an eye on Kagome.

"Are you sure? You can sleep here beside me if you'd like," Miroku offered cheerfully, motioning to the space next to him on the mat.

Sango shook her head furiously. She felt her face color and wished he would die, or at least shut up.

He grinned. "Suit yourself. You were eager enough to sleep in my arms last night -"

"Wait, what?" Kagome exclaimed.

Sango ground her teeth. It had not happened at all like he was making it sound. "Don't listen to him, he's being an idiot," she hissed, and stalked away, Miroku's laughter ringing in her ears.

-x-

They departed the temple later that afternoon, once all their clothes had dried (though Kaede deemed Kagome's kimono to be beyond saving, and agreed to let her take the miko's clothes that she was wearing instead). Kaede saw to it that they were at least modestly supplied with dry bedding and tinder, and enough food to see them through the next few days.

The sun was still high in the sky, and Sango pushed them as hard as she dared, hoping to gain a good deal of ground while they still had some light. They traveled mostly in silence; even the monk was subdued.

Miroku had borrowed ink and paper from the temple and, when they made camp that night, settled himself near their tiny fire and worked at writing sacred scrolls. Sango had seen many priests use such tools against demons and ghosts alike, but this time it gave her an idea.

"Hey, Houshi-sama," she said, her voice softer than she expected. "I have an idea. May I borrow some of that paper?"

"Of course," he murmured, setting aside several of the long, narrow sheets of paper for her. "What are you scheming?"

"I think Princess Kagome should write her fiance a letter."

He made a noncommittal sound, focusing not on her but on forming the complex design of the sutra he was writing.

"We can't be more than three or four days' walk from the palace," she went on. "And Naraku's men are probably close behind us. If we can get word to Inuyasha, he may come for her. I don't think Byakuya or Muso would risk fighting a Prince."

"You may be right."

"Kirara can deliver it. She's faster than any of us, and can reach Inuyasha long before we could."

He finished the sutra he was working on, then handed the ink pot and brush - with an exaggerated flourish, of course - to Sango. "Here you go."

Nodding thanks, she scooped up the supplies and made her way over to where Kagome sat, a short distance away. The Princess was playing a game with Kirara and a fallen leaf; Sango hated to disturb them. Still, it had to be done. "Kagome."

The Princess looked up expectantly. "Yes?"

"I have an idea," Sango said, sitting down next to her. "If you were to write a letter to Inuyasha, telling him what's happened, Kirara could take it to him. He'd know it was from you."

"That's a good idea!" She took the paper, ink, and brush from Sango and set about finding a suitable - and private - place to write. Sango went and sat next to Miroku again, so as not to pry.

"You know, you could have just written it yourself," he pointed out while they waited.

Sango did not feel like informing him that, while she could read well enough, she could write only with great difficulty. Her hands were trained to wield weapons, not to form the fine, exact lines of calligraphy. "It would be best if it comes from the Princess's own hand."

After what seemed like an eternity, Kagome deemed the letter complete. She rolled it up like a tiny scroll and handed it wordlessly to Sango.

With trepidation in her heart, Sango took it to Kirara.

"Kirara, I need you to do something for me," she said, unable to meet her friend's gaze. The cat demon quirked her head to one side for a moment, listening. "Naraku's men are going to catch us. I need you to fly as fast as you can, and take a message to Prince Inuyasha."

Kirara made a low rumbling sound deep in her throat. Sango knew that sound. It meant she understood.

"Good."

She tied the small piece of paper into a knot of silken ribbon she had cut from the hem of Kagome's kimono and looped it around Kirara's neck. Not only would the fine, if water-damaged, fabric lend credence to the note's veracity, she hoped it would also carry Kagome's scent. Inuyasha was half dog youkai. If he had met Kagome in the past, he might recognize her by scent alone.

"Remember," she went on, knowing she was stalling, "to stay low and out of sight wherever you can. Avoid people. We don't know who else might be in league with Naraku."

She watched as Kirara took a running start and leapt into the air, gliding as close to the ground as she dared. It was not long before her faint glow disappeared from sight.

Filled with a numbing loneliness, the result of having sent a dear friend into danger, Sango wandered back over by the fire and sat down. She watched it burn down to embers, trying to take solace in the warm light, so reminiscent of Kirara's flames, or in the soft sound of Kagome's breathing as she fell asleep. It was not enough to stave off the trepidation in her heart.

"She'll be okay."

It took her a moment to realize Miroku had spoken. "I hope so."

"You really care about her, don't you?" Sango nodded in response, and he went on with a chuckle, "I never thought I'd see a Taijiya and a demon working together like that."

It would seem odd, she supposed. But... "Kirara has been my friend since before I can remember. If something happens to her because I sent her into danger, I don't know if I can forgive myself."

She glanced over at him uncertainly, only to see that he was watching her with an unusual intensity. His eyes were dark and endlessly fascinating in the dim light. She found herself caught in his gaze for a long moment; her breath caught in her throat, and she had to look away. She stared into the fire, little more than faintly glowing ashes now, and hoped she had made the right decision.

-x-

The next day came far too quickly for Sango's taste, with a bright and cheerful dawn. They had fresh fish for breakfast, which Miroku had caught with a fishing line Sango did not even know he'd procured from Kaede.

It was an auspicious start, more or less, for all that the next few days were filled with more interminable walking. They avoided settlements, making do with what was left of their supplies and what they could catch or gather quickly in the forest. Although the fear of it constantly hung over the group, there was still no sign of pursuit.

But by the third day, just before midday, Sango was sure that someone was following them. "Do you hear something?"

Miroku and Kagome glanced at each other, then shook their heads. Sango knew she had heard something this time, a small rustling of foliage, an errant footstep... But no matter how hard she strained to listen now, there was nothing to be heard.

"Are you sure you did not imagine it, Sango?" Miroku asked, finally. She knew what he was hinting at; they were all short of sleep lately, and now he thought she was hearing things. His disbelief irked her; her fellow Taijiya would have heeded her warning... or they would have investigated thoroughly to prove that she had, in fact, been mistaken. By comparison, Miroku and Kagome seemed downright careless.

"It might be Muso or Byakuya," she muttered, "And you're so quick to tell me I'm imagining things?"

Miroku made no answer. He did not have to. The sound of hoofbeats echoed through the forest. Someone was coming down the path. They made no move to hide. They were already well off the main path, and whoever was there was obviously on their trail. They had little choice but to make a stand where they were, and hope that a battle would be unnecessary.

The horse and rider rounded a bend and came into view. The rider was a haggard man, who looked rather the worse for wear... and his face was blessedly familiar.

"M-masaru! You're alive!"

But Masaru looked anything but pleased. "Lady Sango of the Taijiya, you have conducted yourself poorly and have brought great shame to your people. For the crime of kidnapping a Princess of the Blood, you are sentenced to die."

"Kidnapping? What are you talking about?" She turned slightly, pleading, "Kagome, tell him!" But Kagome was staring at her in shock, as if she did not know her at all.

Masaru took the opening and struck mercilessly. He used a chain scythe, just like Kohaku's. She watched dumbly as it whirled toward her, and felt a barbed blade tear through her kosode and plant itself in her back. Pain blossomed, tinging her vision with red, and she collapsed. Out of the red-hazed corner of one eye, she watched as Masaru faded away and resolved himself into Byakuya.

None of it had been real; she should have listened to Miroku when he said she was imagining things...

She hauled herself upright, clinging to a nearby tree for support; vaguely, she was aware of Miroku stepping in front of Kagome, intending to protect her. Byakuya waved a hand and the monk's eyes went wide. Another illusion, she knew, but she could do nothing to stop it, nor to stop Byakuya from grabbing hold of Kagome and hauling her off into the forest.

Slowly, she stumbled after them, or at least in the direction she thought they had gone. She was lost almost immediately, wandering back toward the trail as the forest closed in darkly around her.

When she caught a glimpse of red at the edge of her vision, she thought her mind was playing tricks on her. But it moved and became clearer, resolving itself into the shape of a man; he had a feral beauty to him, with long silver hair crowned by what might have been dog or cat ears. His eyes caught a stray beam of light for an instant and gleamed a color that might have been gold. He wore robes wrought of fine red fur, and carried an ancient, battered blade at his hip. A forest spirit, she thought, wondering at the unearthly vision before her.

No... This man was no mere benign forest spirit. She should know who he was. She struggled to remember. Robes of fire rat fur... "Prince Inuyasha?"

He nodded cautiously.

"Thank the gods..." She could feel the blood trickling down her back, but it was distant, like it wasn't really her body that was bleeding its life away. "That... man. He has your fiancee." The world was spinning dizzily around her; she had lost a lot of blood.

Clawed hands caught her shoulders, shook her forcefully. "What man? Where did he go?"

"Naraku's. Went into the forest. Careful. Illusions."

With a flash of silver-white hair and red fur, he was gone, chasing after Byakuya and Kagome. Too weak to stay upright on her own, Sango collapsed into the dirt.

-x-

When Sango woke up, she was lying on her stomach on a cotton-stuffed mat, with a blanket draped lightly over her. In the distance, she could hear the familiar bustle of an organized camp, and realized that she must be in Inuyasha's camp. The wound in her back had been stitched shut and bandaged, and the half-dozen or so other, minor wounds she had taken in the battle had also been treated.

Miroku was sitting not two paces from her head, watching her with interest. Kirara was curled up in his lap. "You had me worried for a while there," he said.

She blinked at him blearily. "What happened?"

He shrugged. "Prince Inuyasha saved the day. I daresay that our friend, Princess Kagome, got her fairytale come true today."

"We should all be dead," she muttered, her voice bitter. She had been taken in by Byakuya's illusions for a second time, and had failed in her duty to protect the Princess. Miroku didn't seem to care. Maybe his wits were addled from hitting his head too hard.

"The way I see it, I owe you my life. We all do. If you hadn't sent Kirara ahead, Byakuya would have killed us both, and taken Kagome, too."

"It was a stupid risk. Anybody could have intercepted her, and Inuyasha had no reason to believe that the message she carried was real."

"But it was from Kagome." He chuckled. "A hanyou Prince and a Princess of the Blood... It sounds purely political. Who'd have thought it was actually a love-match?"

She could not summon the strength to laugh, and sighed instead. He leaned closer, pressed a hand against her forehead, shifted to run his fingers gently through her hair. The gesture was strangely comforting. "Get some rest."

It was a while yet after that before sleep claimed her, and he stayed until it did. For that, she was grateful.

-x-

They journeyed slowly after that, for all that Inuyasha had brought only a small party with him and, in spite of his dislike of beasts, plenty of horses. Kagome easily took charge, insisting that they be mindful of the party's injured members as they went. Inuyasha grumbled about it, but when Kagome gave an order, he obeyed.

It would almost have been comical, if not for the deadly seriousness of their situation. They were lucky to have Inuyasha around now. He might only be half-demon, but he was not a man to be trifled with, and his senses rivaled those of any demon. If someone tried to sneak up on them again, he would be aware of it.

For her part, Sango was simply glad the prince had thought to bring mounts, and for the return of Kirara. She spent much of the next few days drowsing as she rode, mindless with exhaustion and growing more delirious by the day, and thought it lucky that she had not yet fallen and made herself look the fool. It was two days before she realized she had kept her seat only because Miroku rode with her and held her there. It was then, too, that she realized she had no memory of those two days, save interminable traveling and the sense of time passing.

With that realization came a sudden awareness. She was sitting astride a horse, leaning heavily against the creature's neck. She shifted, and the wound in her back throbbed hotly. She groaned. "Houshi-sama."

It sounded more like a croak than her own voice. Before she could go on, he leaned close to press a skin of water into her hands; she drank only a little, guessing from how parched she felt that drinking too much too quickly would only make her sick. Even that small movement took a great deal of energy, and she slumped back against the horse's neck.

"What happened?" she managed, frustrated at her inability to turn her head far enough to look back at Miroku.

"The weapon Byakuya stabbed you with was poisoned," he explained, his voice irritatingly calm. "And the wound was beginning to fester. Apparently Naraku decided he'd had enough of your meddling in his plans."

Sango was silent for a long time, her mind sluggishly processing this information. "Then... how did I...?"

She got the sense that Miroku was smiling when he spoke, though she did not turn to see. "Kagome pled your case to her fiance. Seems he knows of a demon renowned as a poison master, who also knows a thing or two about antidotes and remedies. Yakurou Dokusen, they call him. So we took a detour and went to see this poison master. He gave us a remedy for you, to clear the poison from your body."

"He just hands out remedies for free?"

This time, she knew Miroku was grinning. "It might have taken a kiss from Kagome-sama to seal the deal..."

He let her rest after that, humming softly to himself from time to time, but mostly remaining silent. He kept one hand on the reins, and the other, warm and steady, on the small of her back.

She slept a great deal that day and through the night, but found herself aware and awake enough to eat a hearty helping when they stopped for dinner. And by afternoon of the second day after that, she was well enough to ride on her own as their group made its way into the capital city, even though they were received without fanfare or acknowledgement.

Yakurou Dokusen, it seemed, was a miracle worker.

-x-

If they rode into the city looking like bedraggled, half-drowned rats, they entered the palace, formally at least, in style befitting Inuyasha's rank. Most of the court turned out to see, though they were far more interested in the hanyou Inuyasha and his human bride than in the Princess's two road-weary retainers.

The people of Sesshoumaru's court all had the unearthly beauty and fine features that came from strong demon blood. The bloodlines of these families were not diluted like those near the borders; most of these were full blooded demons. Sango felt pale and weak in comparison to the demon court. She had been trained to fight demons, but these were unlike any she had ever seen.

They watched, masking amusement or annoyance, as the human party entered the palace. Inuyasha had warned them that he was not well liked among his peers, being fully half human, and the angry stares directed his way bore out his warning. They could expect no succor here. The demons would be glad to see them go. Glancing around surreptitiously, Sango wondered how Kagome would be able to stand living here.

She followed dutifully behind Kagome as they entered the royal audience room, keeping pace with Miroku, and bowed when Sesshoumaru addressed Inuyasha and Kagome. She kept her eyes properly averted, but her ears open. If the demon court disapproved of Kagome's marriage to Inuyasha, it could eventually lead to trouble back home.

The demons were deadly silent during Sesshoumaru's interrogation of his younger brother and future sister-in-law. Sango took her example from them; the courtiers were undoubtedly well aware of the consequences of interrupting their lord.

For the most part, Inuyasha did the talking. It seemed strange to Sango to hear the tale from an outsider's perspective, and to hear the parts she had missed - Inuyasha's reaction to the letter from Kagome, as well as the deaths of Muso and Byakuya. Sango breathed a sigh of relief when she heard that part; she had been afraid to ask what had happened to them when Inuyasha got a hold of them, fearing they had somehow escaped and might come back to haunt her. She liked the hanyou Prince better for having taken care of them.

When they were dismissed from the audience room, servants led them to rooms in a far wing of the palace that had been prepared for their stay. Or, rather, for Kagome's stay. The Princess would receive a room to herself. Sango and Miroku were given places among the servants.

This caused no little stir among the palace's inhabitants, both those petty nobles that had been displaced to make room for the Princess, and the servants who were intrigued by the new, fragile creatures sharing their quarters. The low-born women were rather openly flirtatious with Miroku; he was, after all, a novelty. But it went without saying that none of them would make a real move toward him. Hanyou children were unwelcome among the demon court, and might cost a servant woman her livelihood. Even Prince Inuyasha was continually ridiculed and ostracized.

Most of the men had no interest in a weak human female like Sango. Those that did made no attempt at subtlety. They were denied Kagome, who anyone with eyes could tell was far lovelier than Sango, because she was of royal blood and promised to their half-breed Prince. Sango had no such protection. Their open stares and propositions made her uncomfortable enough that Miroku's company seemed positively safe by comparison.

While most were content merely to leer at her from afar, there was one in particular whose boldness frightened her. He went by the name Katashi, and he was, she gathered, a rather fearsome warrior. Born of some obscure offshoot of the same family that had produced both Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru, he reckoned that the human newcomers owed him somewhat. And he took that desire out on Sango at every opportunity.

After all, the hanyou prince had been given a human bride. Why should he not be given a human concubine?

It reminded Sango - with a chill that ran up and down her spine - of Muso, or rather the demon creature that had usurped his identity, and the predatory way in which he had watched Kagome.

She only encountered Katashi a handful of times, but his fury grew with each denial he received. She knew from the look in his eyes that he would be dangerous; she only hoped that she would be long gone before his temper flew out of control. Or that he would at least find another target for his attentions.

But he did not.

As the royal wedding drew near, he only grew bolder; she guessed that he was trying to have his conquest before the half-breed Prince wed his own human woman. And she meant not to let him have it. True, she had slipped back into the role of handmaid when they entered the palace, judging it prudent not to let on that she was a slayer of demons in her homeland, but she would not bow down to some demon's desire to possess her body. For she knew, too, that she would be dead should she end up with child.

There were far too many accidents that could be arranged to deal with an unwanted servant woman. Katashi was not the most subtle creature, but he was cunning enough. It was an accident - which Sango had no doubt was no accident - that led her to be alone in the hallway one night after a meeting with Lord Sesshoumaru's steward, who would be overseeing the wedding preparations.

It was one of the servant women she resided with who told her Miroku wanted to talk to her in private and sent her down this tiny, dark little hallway. But it was not Miroku waiting for her, but Katashi. And he struck the moment he saw her.

He loomed close to her, too close for comfort. "Come with me, human," he said, his voice little more than a grunt as he made to grab her.

She jerked away. "No."

With a sudden whirling motion, he had her pinned against the wall, solid wood against her back and each of her hands gripped in his. She quivered, suddenly, truly afraid.

He leaned closer. "Tell me no again, human. See if I listen."

She tried to pull away, but he was stronger than she was. She twitched, fully ready to resort to the blades hidden beneath her tekkou, if she could manage to trip the hidden triggers with his hands so tightly around her wrists.

"Excuse me, but what do you think you're doing?" It was Miroku's voice; Sango sagged with relief. An ally, at last!

Katashi turned his head slightly, his eyes glaring and his mouth forming a sneer that bared his fangs. "It's none of your concern, monk."

"I think it is," Miroku said, his voice quiet and deadly serious. "That woman you're manhandling is my wife."

The demon laughed at that. "You think I'm so stupid, do you? She stays in the women's quarter, and everyone knows monks don't marry."

Miroku shrugged. "Some sects forbid their monks to marry. Mine does not."

Katashi grinned widely. "I think you lie. Let's see you stop me then."

Abruptly, he released Sango and lashed out at Miroku. His first blow was tentative, testing. Miroku did not let the advantage go to waste. He counted with his staff, parrying each blow Katashi made and gradually turning the fight to his advantage, whapping the staff solidly on Katashi's head. Katashi howled and leaped well out of striking range. There was a large welt on the demon's forehead where the staff had struck. Sango thought she smelled the scent of charred flesh.

"Bastard, using holy power..." the demon growled.

"I don't wear these robes for nothing," Miroku said amicably. His eyes narrowed. "But be warned: the next time I catch you attempting to molest this woman, I won't hesitate to end your life."

The two glared at each other for a long moment before Katashi finally backed off for good, slinking back down the hall from whence he had come. Sango watched him go, feeling her stomach flutter unsettlingly.

"I'm sorry," Miroku said, even as Sango breathed a sigh of relief and turned to thank him.

Her eyes went wide, uncomprehending. "For what?"

"For lying. I had no right to tell him you were my wife, I only thought it might put him off pursuing you."

She had forgotten, already, that he had lied, calling her his wife. He could have said anything and it would have pleased her, so long as it made Katashi go away and leave her alone. "Don't be sorry," she managed. "I owe you a great debt for stepping in to stop him when you did. I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't."

"Let's get out of here," he murmured. She agreed, glad to get away from the scene of the crime, so to speak, and they set off down the hall. "Sango, I hate to suggest that you confine yourself -"

"But the demons here aren't going to punish Katashi for asserting himself," she interrupted, knowing their thoughts had taken the same path.

"I doubt it."

"I'll be more careful in the future," she said, nodding. "Say, what you did back there... I've never seen anything like it."

"There's a bit of the old power in my family, I guess. It's difficult to control," he admitted. "It would have been a lot easier just to purify him... if I'd not been quite so careful, he would be dead."

"I think I'd prefer that," Sango grumbled.

Miroku laughed. "And Sesshoumaru and his court would happily execute me for murdering an 'innocent' demon."

She frowned. "I still wish he was dead. Scum like that... shouldn't be allowed to live." She let out a frustrated sound, half sigh, half growl. "I trained all my life to slay demons, and now I must play nice... I have to listen to them insult my honor and my training, my family, my people... I'd rather face them with steel, and show them just how 'weak' I really am."

"You weren't trained to take down this kind of demon," Miroku said gently.

"I know." Her tone was dull.

They stood now in front of the door that led to the room she shared with the other servant women, but she was as loath as ever to go in. Looking for any excuse to stay outside, she looked to Miroku, half-turning as she did. His hands caught her about the shoulders, his touch gentle, but spreading heat through her with a shock of sudden awareness - they were very close together. The heat that suffused her was echoed in his eyes, which were dark and intense as they found and held her gaze.

"If he bothers you again, tell me."

It occurred to her, distantly, that she would probably be better off telling Kagome about it and letting Inuyasha take care of it, but she nodded anyway. She thought, stupidly, that she ought to tell him she could take care of herself. And then those thoughts were displaced by one simple desire: to make that small shift, close the distance between them, and press her lips to his. Where had that thought come from?

And as quickly as she thought it, he released her and pulled away, inclining his head once deferentially. And then he was gone, stalking down the hall rather more quickly than she would have liked. She watched him go, and felt somehow... bereft.

After that day, she spent as much time as possible with Kagome or Miroku, dreading the prospect of being caught out alone, and any possible retribution that might come from Katashi. But as the wedding drew near, Kagome requested her presence more and more often. Some days passed, and she did not even see Miroku at all; it filled her with a strangely profound loneliness, to be surrounded by people and without the only one she would have as her companion.

-x-

The wedding was as fine an affair as Sango had ever seen. Princess Kagome looked resplendent in her many-layered red silk kimono; indeed, it was hard to believe that the royal tailors had been forced to put her wedding ensemble together at the very last moment due to the loss of all of Kagome's belongings along the way. Even Inuyasha managed to look cheerful.

Being the only representatives of Kagome's nation ready to hand, for as yet there was no formal human embassy in this land, Sango and Miroku both attended the wedding as a matter of course. Both were witness to the happy glow on the Princess's face and the grudging love and respect reflected in her new husband's eyes, though as soon as the ceremony was over they found themselves herded back among the servants.

That night, there was food in abundance, and alcohol, too. Miroku cheerfully joined in the festivities, but Sango partook only a little and went to her bed earlier than most; she knew too well how ill she would feel in the morning if she indulged too much now.

The next morning, rumors flew through the palace and festivities picked up again for all that most everyone was still dealing with the effects of the last night's partying. Sango heard rumors that the royal bed-sheets were stained with the blood of Kagome's maidenhead, and that there were good portents in the whole affair. She tried to ignore the darker rumors that she heard, whispers that Inuyasha had only proved his weakness by taking a human bride; it would be difficult for Kagome to live in this place, and Inuyasha, too. She felt almost sorry for them.

In spite of everything, they seemed content with their lot. They had each other, after all, and there was no hiding the love in their eyes when they spoke or thought of one another.

But not all the news in the days that followed the wedding was happy. Word came, finally, of what had befallen Masaru and the rest of Kagome's escort. They were dead to a man, including the handmaids, and all the Princess's things had been pilfered. It looked like the work of bandits. Sango and Kagome knew better, but Lord Sesshoumaru let the rumor spread while his own network of spies worked to tie the crime back to Naraku.

Having seen firsthand how cold and uncaring Lord Sesshoumaru seemed in the presence of humans, Sango doubted this, but Kagome assured her it was true. He might be cold and despise humans as weak, mortal creatures, but he was also furious at the thought that bandits - or anyone else with a nefarious scheme - might do as they pleased on his lands. He would see it taken care of.

Somehow, Sango was not all that reassured to hear this.

Kagome believed it. She sent for Sango that afternoon, for a private meeting. Sango had not been expecting that, but when she entered Kagome's new royal chamber, there were no other servants or guards present, not even Inuyasha.

Even more astonishing, Kagome flung her arms around her in a bone-cracking hug. "Thank you," she breathed. "I wouldn't be here if not for you."

Sango chuckled as they parted. "I'd be a pretty bad Taijiya if I'd just let them get you, wouldn't I?"

"I suppose you would," Kagome agreed, giggling a little. "But I still think you went above and beyond the call of duty. You put yourself at great risk to keep me safe."

"I could do no less," Sango protested. She knew Kagome was getting at something, but did not dare try to think what it might be.

Finally, she could take it no more: "Would you like to stay, Sango?"

She blinked, surprised. "What?"

"I'd love it if you'd stay on with me," Kagome said, smiling softly. "I'll miss you, when you go home. You're more than just a handmaid or bodyguard... you're my friend."

Truly, she had not considered staying with Kagome. The idea of permanently leaving her village was a heady one, and somewhat scary at that. But at the same time, she felt a little bit sorry for Kagome, who was the only human woman in residence and had no friends. Eventually another group would be sent from home, as she would require her own servants and wardrobe, but in the meantime Sango it couldn't hurt to stay on a little bit longer.

"I'll... I'll think about it, okay?"

Kagome's smile grew wider. "Thank you, Sango!"

With that, she was dismissed. Kagome had already turned away; Sango realized with a little shock that the Princess was acting as if she had already chosen to stay. Was the right path that obvious? It certainly didn't seem so clear to her.

-x-

Sango did not know what compelled her to seek out Miroku before making her decision. Rather, she preferred not to think about it, nor to acknowledge that if he were the one asking, she would unquestioningly choose to stay... at least for a little while.

She had to admit, the monk was intriguing. He had become a very close friend in a short period of time; already, she counted him among the few she was willing to trust in this place. And she wanted to know more about him. For all that he tended to talk constantly, most of it was idle chatter. She knew little about him, even after all they had gone through together.

But he was nowhere to be found. He was not in any of his usual haunts; not the servants' quarters, not the kitchens, nor the baths. Finally, frustrated, she turned to a group of three demon women, whose room in the servants' quarters she had been sharing, and begged information from them.

"I heard he'd been summoned to the west wing," said the first, her expression thoughtful. This was where the wealthiest of the nobles, those in highest favor with Lord Sesshoumaru lived.

"I heard he went looking for gold and jewels," said the second, her eyes lively, "to take back to his temple when he goes."

"I heard he was so struck by Lady Hiroko's beauty that he followed her home," laughed the third, her eyes glinting with malice and amusement alike.

Sango frowned. She hated gossip, and these three had lied to her before, but thanked them anyway, and hoped their words would at least lead her in the right direction.

She knew, vaguely, where Lady Hiroko's family lived when they were in residence at the palace. She belonged to a wealthy and influential family that was somehow related to Lord Sesshoumaru's, and so was ensconced in the west wing of the palace. The trick would just be to find out if Miroku was with her without being discovered or appearing to be up to no good. No restrictions had been placed on her movement within the palace, but she had a feeling she was not supposed to be wandering around alone in place where she might offend influential demons.

She found the right area with few problems, but then trepidation reared its ugly head. She would have been better off waiting for Miroku to return to one of his more usual places than to venture here alone in search of him. And it seemed her fears were rightly placed, for she was soon quite lost.

There was a soft sound of footsteps around the corner, and she had a fleeting, horrified thought that she would find herself alone with Katashi again, but it was just a young girl. She was little more than a child, in truth. It was strange to see a child alone in the palace.

"Excuse me," she said gently, "but I'm looking for Lady Hiroko."

The little girl flinched at the sound of her voice. "I'm not going to hurt you," she murmured, and realized that this must be someone she had heard of before - a hanyou child named Shiori.

Shiori looked frozen in place; Sango wondered how she might win the child's trust. She had nothing to give as a gift or toy, but she could be kind. She wagered that hanyou children saw little kindness in this place.

"Please?"

The girl finally looked up and gestured, frightenedly, back the way she had come. Sango thanked her profusely and headed in that direction, barely hearing the child's whispered words. "In the third audience chamber on the right."

Indeed, it seemed the child had spoken truly. The door to that room had been left open a crack. Sango knew it was not right to peek, but she could not help herself. She peered through the tiny opening and recoiled almost immediately, her heart constricting uncomfortably in her chest.

What she had seen upset her a great deal more than she thought it should have. She had found Miroku, all right. Along with Lady Hiroko and three of her noble-born friends. There were piles of gold and copper coins on the floor, and dice, too. They had been gaming, she gathered, but now the activities had taken a different turn.

Struggling to keep her cool, she turned and marched back down the hallway. But she could not keep what she had seen from playing out to the end in her head. Miroku was grinning, and might have been laughing, the Lady Hiroko cradled in his lap; it was a lover's embrace, and he had been leaning down even as she turned her face up to meet him. The Lady's friends had watched, tittering amongst themselves excitedly.

She was shaking by the time she got back to the room she shared in the servants' quarters, and was glad to see that no one else was there.

How many nights had she wasted in this room, wondering what it would be like to kiss him, or what he would do if she ever made a move or gave indication that she was interested in him? Her face burned with shame. She had known from the beginning he was an incorrigible flirt, and a lecher on top of that. She should have known better than to let him worm his way into her heart, even a little; she should have known he would play his role of exotic plaything to his best advantage.

And why should it bother me to see proof of it, she thought angrily, it's not like I -

But it was.

She felt, beside her anger and shame, a painful longing for home.

This was not where she belonged, dodging Katashi's violent overtures and court gossip alike, pining after a man that was, truly told, all wrong for her in the first place. She sighed. It was going to be a long night.

In the morning, she informed Kagome of her choice. She did not tell Miroku. By afternoon, the preparations had been made, and she said her surprisingly tearful farewell to Kagome and Inuyasha. She was surprised that Inuyasha came to see her off, but he clasped hands with her as equals and gave a fangy grin; she thought she even saw gratitude in his eyes, for delivering his beloved to him safely. In spite of herself, she liked him.

Kagome's eyes shone with tears, and they embraced like sisters. Sango left her with a whispered promise: should she ever have need, she need only send word to the Taijiya, and help would be sent.

And then they took their leave. With just her and Kirara, they traveled lightly and made good time. Inuyasha had given them a route that took them far away from Naraku's estate and, true to his word, they encountered no trouble on their journey. And with each mile they put behind them, she felt her spirit grow lighter, and the strange, confusing emotional burden she carried in her heart grew easier to bear.

She was going home. The rest could wait.

-x-

Sango's homecoming was a blessedly subdued affair. She was several days overdue, despite having flown practically non-stop from the Western capital, and she arrived well after nightfall. Most of the villagers were asleep, but her father was still awake.

"Sango," he said, his eyes growing wide as she opened the door and slipped inside. He had been sitting in the great room, opposite the main door, looking pensive. "Sango, welcome home."

He rose to greet her, and she wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms and cry, as she might have when she was a child. She settled for a bow and a forced smile, blinking back the tears that clouded her eyes.

Remembering herself, she presented him with the purse Kagome had given her; it was a far greater sum than had been agreed upon, that much was obvious just from the weight of it, but her father did not bother to investigate just yet. He set it aside and beckoned her to sit with him.

"You're well?"

She sat opposite him and nodded, still not trusting her voice.

"I was beginning to worry," he admitted.

"The journey... didn't go as planned," she said. She had not intended to tell the story of the Princess's ill-fated journey until she had slept and could tell her family all at once, but it came pouring out of her that night. The only thing she left out was the idiotic crush she had developed on Miroku, which still made her gut churn. Her father listened silently while she spoke, mulling over her words. When she was done, he rose, fetching a tea pot.

There was little ceremony to his preparation, just calm, quiet efficiency. When it was ready, they drank the tea together. Sango breathed deeply, inhaling the familiar aroma, and felt her nerves settle a little.

"If I had known what would befall you, I would never have let you go."

"I know," she said, sighing and staring at the dregs of tea that clung to the bottom of her cup. Her lips curled into a small smile. "But Princess Kagome-sama will tell you she could never have made the journey without me. She even offered me a permanent place among her retainers."

"Such an offer is a great honor."

"I couldn't do it," she murmured. "All I wanted was to come home."

"Then you made the right choice," he said, and they left it at that.

The days crawled by in the Taijiya village, as life slowly regained its ordinary rhythm. At first, Sango's time was occupied telling everyone, over and over and over again, the story of her journey with the Princess. She had been gone a long time, and the villagers were all curious to hear what had happened.

Eventually, after the healers had had a look at her and judged her to be in good health, she resumed her daily training with the other Taijiya; she had been months without using her Hiraikotsu, and knew she needed practice. She helped out around the village where she could, and began to oversee Kohaku's lessons. Her days were full of friends and family and the daily goings-on of the village, and yet... some part of her mind was always far away, wondering.

It felt like she had left something undone. She knew that she had done her job as the contract had specified; she had made sure that Princess Kagome made it to Inuyasha, and that the two were married. But she had not seen to it that the threat Naraku presented was thwarted. She had not even had the courage to say good-bye to Miroku.

And it ate at her, affecting her performance on the practice field and driving her to darker and darker moods. Eventually, her father took notice. He was bound to. He made it his job to be aware of the condition - mental and physical - of each Taijiya in his village, especially his own children. She was not sure exactly when he became aware of it, for he let her stew in it a while longer, but she knew, when he pulled her aside for a friendly chat, that he was going to put an end to her sour mood one way or another.

"Sango," he said pleasantly, "Is something the matter?"

"No, nothing," she said, the quiet tone of her voice putting the lie to it.

"Something happened while you were with the Princess," he guessed, "that you were unwilling to tell me before."

"No," she protested, "It's nothing like that."

"Perhaps you should see one of the healers -"

"I'm fine." But they both knew, with that outburst, that she was not fine. Struggling to regain her composure, she said, "I'm sorry, Father. It's really nothing."

He gave her a knowing look, and she knew he saw right through her protestations. "Why don't you go talk to your mother?"

-x-

Sango knelt before the grave marker, her head bowed reverently. The scent of burning incense mixed with that of damp earth and foliage. It had been a long time since Sango visited her mother.

If her father and thought she would find the answer she sought in this place, he was wrong. She stared at the finely carved stone marker and was no more certain than she had been before. "Did I do the right thing?"

She no longer sure if she was talking about leaving Kagome... or leaving Miroku.

She had tried to believe that what she felt was guilt at leaving Kagome behind, friendless in a foreign land, but it was Miroku's face that appeared before her when she closed her eyes. She thought she heard the sound of laughter, bubbly and good-natured. It was her mother's voice she heard, some long-buried memory, dredged up in her turmoil. Her concentration shattered, she opened her eyes and swore.

Her memories of her mother were of a vivacious, fiery woman. She would have been amused, Sango thought, to watch her daughter grapple with a man like Miroku.

A great shadow passed overhead, like a cloud, but much more swiftly. She turned to look, marking a large, yellowish brown shape in the sky as the source. It had to be a demon of some kind, but it was not one she recognized; perhaps it was a shape-shifter. And it was heading straight for the village, swooping low out of the sky as it went.

It could mean trouble.

Frowning, Sango headed back to the village. She moved at an easy jog, not wanting to push herself in case it came to a fight.

By the time she regained the village, all of the Taijiya were gathered in the center of town. Warriors and citizens, old and young alike, had turned out to see this spectacle, whatever it was. Sango headed steadily in that direction, keeping her eyes and ears open as she went. There was a man in the middle of the gathering, speaking to the people of the village. Peering through the crowd, she caught sight of dark robes and knew, without even seeing the man's face, who it was: Miroku.

Her heart did an uncomfortable flip-flop even as a dozen questions tore at her mind. How had he found this place? Why had he come? And... did it have anything to do with her?

He had a short, plump creature with him, a tanuki that looked absolutely terrified. Tanuki were famed shape-shifters; the shape she had seen in the sky might have been this very one. And if so... had he brought Miroku? He must have, she decided. The watchers would have shouted warning to every corner of the village, including the graveyard, if a newcomer had been sighted on any of the mountain paths.

She edged slowly closer, trying to blend into the crowd. Unconsciously, she made her way to where Father and Kohaku stood together; her father looked thoughtful, and seemed content to watch. From this vantage point, it was not easy to hear what was being said, but Sango heard enough to make her blood run cold.

Naraku...

The memory of pain sliced through her back.

Naraku was on his way here, with a horde of demons at his back and his mind set on destruction.

The villagers looked unimpressed by his claims. Only a short while ago, Sango would have shared their sentiments. But now... Now she knew the truth of it, and had no doubts. She had thwarted Naraku's ambitions, and had been foolish enough to think she had got away clean. It had never occurred to her that he would seek revenge.

Miroku caught sight of her in the crowd and, with a strange desperation in his voice, cried, "Sango! Listen to me!"

The crowd parted a bit, villagers eying her suspiciously, one question writ on all their faces: just how does this monk pretend to know our Sango? Her father had had enough, and cut in: "And why should we trust you, young monk?"

"Father," Sango said quietly, resting a hand on his arm, "This isn't just any monk... this is Miroku, the one I told you about. I trust him with my life. I... don't think he would lie about this." She had thought, if she ever saw him again, that she would be cold and angry... but her frustration melted away in the face of the loneliness that rose up within her. Like it or no, she had missed him. And she did trust him, if only grudgingly.

"Sango's word is good enough for me," her father said. "We prepare for battle, then!" He turned to Miroku, a fierce glint in his eyes. "And while we do, you are going to explain to me exactly what is going on here."

Miroku looked a little intimidated - a good thing, Sango thought - but nodded.

There was no one in the village that did not own a set of the famous slayer armor, or know how to use some weapon or another, and the village soon bustled with activity. Only the youngest children and the oldest of the elders would not participate in the fight. Everyone had a place in the defense of the village. Sango remembered training for this as a child, but she had never thought they would ever face a threat like this.

Miroku eyed her curiously as she emerged from the family's private quarters, dressed in her full battle armor, a mix of surprise and appreciation on his face. "That's what you wear into battle?"

Tying her gas mask loosely around her neck, she nodded. Her family's weapons were on display along one wall of the great room; she paced over, taking her choice from the selection of knives and daggers, as well as her wakizashi, its shining hilt inlaid with coral, her namesake. Then she turned finally to Hiraikotsu, the great bone boomerang that was her own special weapon, and reverently took it down from its place of honor on the wall. If Miroku had looked surprised before, it paled in comparison to the shock he now displayed.

He had the decency not to ask questions this time, but she quirked a brow at him anyway. It made him smile, a genuine smile, one that made her heart flutter unexpectedly in her chest. "You're full of surprises, Sango," he said, his eyes glittering mirthfully.

She was spared from making any sort of reply, as Father and Kohaku came into the room. Her father stood tall and proud in his armor, but Kohaku looked more apprehensive. And well he should, she thought, because he had only just begun his training. It would be foolish to ignore his own shortcomings.

The Taijiya met outside, in the large open space at the center of town. Now was their time to plan. Because they had been forewarned, they would be able to meet the demon horde on ground of their choosing, well outside the village itself, and Sango knew her father meant to take full advantage of that.

Whatever scheme Naraku had cooked up this time, this would be the end of it.

Sango listened halfheartedly as the plans were laid out, paying close attention to what was expected of her, but keeping an eye on the sky. Naraku, she thought, would come that way rather than try to assail one of the more easily defended mountain passes.

She wished there was time to talk to Miroku. But he was consulting with her father and the others, reporting on what he had seen. Her father had not yet asked why Miroku had come to the village of Taijiya, nor how he had found it in the first place; secretly, Sango feared that revelation most of all.

Of course, it would only become an issue if they survived. And if Miroku spoke truly, that was no guaranteed thing. The story the monk told was of a vast group of demons, led by Naraku himself, seeking the Taijiya woman who had thwarted his plans. Sango shuddered to hear that. She had hoped that Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru would see to it that he was taken care of. Sesshoumaru had sworn it would be done. Either Naraku was far sneakier than she had hoped, or she had given Kagome's husband and his brother too much credit.

Someone cried out, pointing. For a moment, Sango did not see what the fuss was about, but only for a moment. The sky was growing dark, thick with a writhing mass of demons that flew ever closer.

Apprehension descended over the Taijiya village as the demons approached. Only seldom had the demon slayers fought a pitched battle of this size, and never in recent memory. The tales of such great battles were only passed down in legends and fairy tales.

Sango scanned the mass of demons, searching for Naraku. She could not see him anywhere, but was glad that these were only minor demons, petty, weak, and easily swayed. Against demons like Sesshoumaru and his court, which were powerful enough to take human form, they would not have stood a chance. But against this threat, they might yet succeed.

"Sango."

She turned, startled, to see Miroku. His hand gripped her arm, gently, just above the elbow. He said her name again, speaking the syllables like a prayer. "Sango."

Their eyes met.

Her breath hitched; she felt overcome by emotions she could not even name. She wanted to berate him for coming to her village only when it was almost certain they would both die. She wanted to fling her arms around him and cling to him and never let go, no matter what happened.

She did neither of these things, simply met his gaze as evenly as she could.

"Let's try to live, today."

She grinned in spite of herself. "Yes."

And then there was no more time for idle talk; the demons descended upon the village. The fighting was intense. Sango put her Hiraikotsu to good use, carving out swathes of demons and creating space for the slayers to strike. For a long time it was only mindless killing; Sango marveled, in a detached way, at just how well Miroku managed to guard her back. They had never fought together, but it was a seamless teamwork, or as close as they could get under the circumstances.

She would have to consider partnering up with him more often. The sudden thought, and its possible implications, distracted her enough that she only barely blocked the next strike that came her way, and her follow-up throw with Hiraikotsu was off. The weapon struck at an awkward angle and bounced off instead of returning to her.

And then in the midst of it all, everything seemed to slow to a crawl: Naraku approached them, descending out of the writhing mass of minions as if in slow motion. He had been looking for a target, and he had finally found it.

He was dressed not in the lavish kimono in which she had first seen him, but strange battle armor that left his arms oddly exposed. "My favorite monk and slayer," he said as he set foot on the ground, his voice sending a shiver down her spine. "How convenient, to find the two of you in the same place. I've been looking for you."

Even with the open field around her, Sango felt cornered. Her mind filled with the memory of being captured by Naraku's men, of the fear she had felt then and during her subsequent flight, wondering what he was capable of. Fighting against the rising tide of fear inside her, she focused on Miroku's presence at her back, and drew her wakizashi.

The moment before the attack stretched out before them. In that empty space, Sango wished she had not lost Hiraikotsu. She would have preferred to test Naraku from afar before attacking with her sword; but it was not to be.

And then the moment was gone: Naraku attacked.

He bore no weapon, turning his own flesh into the weapon. He lashed out with an arm and it changed, growing longer, the hand fusing together into a fleshy point. Instinct kicked in, and Sango dodged.

The first was instinct. But Naraku pressed the advantage, flailing both arms like whips or tentacles, striking and striking, pushing her back. It was all she could do to deflect or dodge his attacks. After a number of fruitless attempts to turn the battle in her favor, she risked a glance in Miroku's direction, hoping he fared better than she. But he was on the defensive as well, and by now Naraku had managed to separate them. Sango felt a pang of hopelessness in her heart.

She missed the next blow, and it knocked her sword from her hand. Naraku's arm snaked around her ankle, upending her. Dazed, she forced herself back up and turned just in time to see Naraku stab Miroku with her sword. It wasn't a death blow, it was meant for pain, and shame. He had thrust clean through Miroku's right hand, forcing him down to the ground, pinning the monk at his feet with at least a foot of steel embedded in the earth. The demon said something, the words lost to the din of battle, that made the monk grimace as much with rage as pain.

Sango gave a wordless scream and hurled herself at Naraku. Most of her weapons were gone, but in her fury she did not care. All she could see was Miroku's face, contorted with pain, and the image spurred her on. She still had the hidden blades that lay close to her forearms, and as she leapt toward Naraku, she tripped the trigger on one of those blades. The curved blade sang free, tearing through layers of armor to slice into his arm.

He only chuckled.

She whirled, momentum carrying her past him. It was too late. His fist closed over her hair, forcing her to a halt. His laughter only grew louder as he adjusted his grip and bent her head back. More and more, until she thought her back might snap.

Her legs buckled and she fell awkwardly. As he loomed over her, she realized only dimly that he had a knife; it occurred to her, distantly, that she was going to die.

But Naraku never got the chance to use that knife. The attack happened quickly, so quickly that it was over almost before she knew what was happening. Three narrow strips of paper, sacred sutras, slapped against his face, adhering with unearthly force. The air stank of burning flesh. The sutras were Miroku's; she knew without looking. Somehow he had made a true throw, even with one hand pinned to the ground.

Kohaku's chain scythe whirled into the opening, the chain catching around Naraku's arm as the blade bit into the exposed flesh, and with a hard yank her brother forced the arm back and away from her neck. Swearing, Naraku threw Sango to the ground and reached for the sutras that were burning his face.

What happened next would forever be a blur in her memory, for she struck her head on a stray rock as she hit the ground. But somehow, her father and brother and the other villagers rallied and drove Naraku's forces back. She heard it said that her father threw off his opponent with a heroic show of strength, and went after Naraku himself. It would not surprise her to find out such rumors were true. He trusted his children to be competent warriors, but when they were in danger, there was naught that could keep him from coming to their aid.

But for Sango, it all passed in a dizzy haze.

Seiji, the village's foremost healer, came at a run when he heard what had happened. Miroku had been smart enough not to move overmuch, or to remove the sword from his hand; Seiji had bandages ready and did a preliminary job of treating the wound. It would not do to leave Miroku on the battlefield where he would be a sitting target, though Sango wagered that he would not be of much use in a fight any time soon.

By the time Seiji got to her, the battle was dying down and her vision had begun to grow steady and clear again. Even so, he would not allow her to return home on her own, and insisted on carrying her in spite of her protestations. She sighed and put up with it, but she thought she heard Miroku laughing at her as he followed Seiji off the battlefield.

-x-

Many of the outlying buildings had been damaged or destroyed in the battle, including the homes of several families, so her father threw open the doors to their home and turned their great room into an infirmary. Sango and the other survivors tended to the wounded, bringing food, water, and medicines as needed.

She still suffered from periodic headaches as the days went by, and Seiji had warned that they might last for several days, but had escaped the battle otherwise unharmed. As far as she was concerned, she was more than fit to help.

Over the next few days, she saw little of Miroku and, indeed, of the menfolk in general. Those who had not been injured were more concerned with getting the village repaired and rebuilt than with treating to the wounded; that task they trusted to the women. For all that the circumstances of it were horrible, Sango was glad for the distraction. She was torn between a desperate desire to find Miroku and make sure that he was okay, and the horrible anxiety that rose in her belly every time she dared think of him.

She settled for spending time with her father. She had been horrified to discover that he bore an enormous, deep gash across his right arm and shoulder. He had received this injury, she learned, just before Naraku was slain. Or rather, not slain. As it turned out, what they had thought was Naraku was only a puppet, wrought of wood and clay and given life through demonic power. Naraku, it seemed, did not like to sully his own hands.

Well and so, at least now they knew what he was up to. They would be prepared for attack in the future. Not that it did her father much good.

Seiji had stitched the wound shut and predicted it would heal clean, but the villagers had decided that their leader should take things easy for a few days and so he was confined, laughing, to his own infirmary. Sango thought it fitting that she, who had worried no few of the villagers when she fell and struck her head, should be the one in charge of his care. And, in a way, it was good for the both of them.

She had been away from home for a long time, and had been tense even long after her return. Now, that tension had melted away into the comfortable familiarity of home. She was happier than ever to sit beside her father and listen to the stories he told to pass the time. Occasionally, he would send her on errands for the healers, or to check up on Kohaku; once or twice, when she came back, she found him deep in discussion with Miroku.

If she had hoped to find time to talk with the monk herself, she was always disappointed. Whenever she returned he would excuse himself, without fail, and vanish as if he had never been there to begin with.

It irritated her more than she would like to admit.

The second time it happened, her father caught on to her bad mood and laughed. "I'm lucky you didn't decide to become a healer," he joked. "It's not good to be so sullen."

It was growing late; most of the people in the makeshift infirmary were sleeping. "I'm just tired, Father."

"Ah, yes, I would imagine you are. It's been a long day for everyone. But I am thirsty," he said. "Would you fetch me some water before you to to bed?"

"Ran has a pitcher ready. I'll go get you some."

"It's late. Don't bother Ran." He had a strange, almost mischievous look in his eyes as he spoke. "I would rather you bring me some straight from the spring."

Sango frowned, and then sighed. He was giving her permission to leave the house - without supervision - for the first time in days... but she had no doubt, now, that there was a reason for it. And he was not going to share that reason with her. Worry ate at her even as she inclined her head and murmured, "As you wish."

It was not far to the spring, just far enough to let her enjoy the clear night air and a few moments of solitude. Her father, ever the astute observer, had known she needed this. Her steps were lighter and her spirits higher than they had been in days when she returned, though she was beginning to regret her choice of vessel. Thinking to save the trouble of an early morning excursion for more water, she had taken the largest earthenware pitcher they had. Now, filled, it was heavy and threatened to spill at the slightest misstep.

She made it back to the house without spilling a drop and, on a whim, decided to take a shortcut through the house instead of going around to the front and entering the great room directly. The door was slightly ajar, so she worked it open with one foot and slipped inside, making her way carefully down the hall.

She rounded the last corner and ran headlong into Miroku, stopping so abruptly that she sloshed water all over the floor.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, feeling perhaps a bit more flustered than she ought. "I'm sorry... I'm still a bit uncoordinated. I'll -"

His left hand found its way to her arm, the gentle pressure drawing her out of her rambling. "Sango, it's nothing. It's a little water, that's all." She stared at him, not quite comprehending. "How have you been holding up?"

"I'm... fine. I've been helping with the wounded."

"I noticed as much," he said, even as she went on, "And what about you? I've hardly seen you these past few days."

He shrugged. "I've been better."

"Your hand..." It was splinted and wrapped in clean linen, belying the injury she knew to be beneath.

"I'll live." He gave a wry grin. "Your healer tells me I'm a lucky man. Some of the small bones are broken, but I can still feel all my fingers. I should still be able to get some use out of this hand when everything is said and done."

"I'm glad," she murmured. She had been terrified, in the back of her mind, that he would be crippled because of her.

He held his hand up, the injured one, and examined it silently for a while. "I never thought something like this would happen to me," he admitted. She had the sudden urge to take his hand in hers, but could not. Instead, she gripped her pitcher tighter, feeling slightly miserable. It was, after all, her fault that he had been injured, no matter that the healers predicted he would regain the use of his hand. "I must admit, though, that it was worth it."

"How can you say a thing like that?"

"I would gladly take worse, if it meant you were spared." The response left her speechless.

"Though maybe, after what happened, I shouldn't have been so eager to throw myself in danger's path for your sake," he mused in the silence that followed. "Ah, well. Call me a fool, then."

"After what happened?" she asked, confused.

"You left without even saying good-bye," he said softly. He sounded hurt.

Her temper flared unbidden; she did her best to hide it, leaning against the door frame with a sigh. "It seemed you were enjoying yourself quite a bit with those demon women," she said, trying not to wince at how pathetically jealous she sounded. It seemed that not even her best attempts were enough to disguise her feelings on that matter. "I thought it best not to interrupt."

"You saw that, then."

"I couldn't blame you. They were beautiful. And rich, every one of them." She hugged her arms around her middle, suddenly uncomfortable. She had no claim on him, and he had none on her. She had no right to say such things to him.

To her surprise, he looked more amused than offended. "Do you really think I could turn them down? I'd rather be stuck flirting with a bunch of dangerous women than risk losing my head for offending them. I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression..."

"You mean..."

"I was nothing more than a new toy to them," he said, shrugging as if it really did not bother him all that much. "They grew tired of me soon enough. I had hoped you would still be around when they did."

She frowned and clutched the pitcher closer against her, struggling against pangs of guilt. If he was telling the truth, and she had a feeling he was, then she had grossly misjudged the situation. Her behavior was inexcusable.

In spite of her guilt, or perhaps because of it, he went on, "I missed you, you know. When you left. I didn't know what had happened to you... I was afraid that Katashi had done something to you. I thought you might be dead, and I'd never see you again." He smiled faintly. "It was Kagome that told me you went home."

She listened, rapt.

"I was relieved, at first. And confused. You just... left. I didn't know if you wanted me to go after you, or if you'd finally gotten so fed up with me that you never wanted to see me again."

She lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze. If she were perfectly honest, she had not really known what she wanted when she left. She had just needed to get away. And she had run, like a coward.

She couldn't run now. And she didn't want to. Not when he was actually being honest without making a joke of it, when he was so close she could feel the heat of him on her skin. She tilted her head slightly, needing to see his face. "Houshi-sama..."

The fingers of his good hand tangled in her hair as he pulled her up and into a deep, heated kiss that left her dazed and a little breathless.

He was smiling when he pulled away. "I wanted to do that before we parted ways, but you left before I got the chance."

She smiled too, unable to help herself, but hers was tinged with rue. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She thought he might kiss her again, she _wanted _him to kiss her again, but he glanced discreetly toward the great room and stepped away from her. "I'm keeping you from your duties."

She had forgotten, completely and utterly, that she was on her way to take water to her father. And all it had taken was one look, a softly spoken word, a single touch... She flushed with embarrassment. So much for fresh, chilled spring water.

His smile grew wider. "Go on." His gaze shifted to his hand. "I won't be going anywhere for a while."

Thoroughly chagrined, she slipped past him and into the great room where her father waited. She thought, with a flash of amusement, that Father looked rather like a king, sitting there at the head of the great room, with his 'subjects' spread around. There were not many of those left; most had already gone home, and a goodly number of those that remained would be healthy enough to return to the care of their own families in a day or two.

She knew without asking that her father would stay until the last was gone. It was simply his way. It was also part of the reason that the villagers loved him so much and had made him their headman when that honor should have fallen to his wife's brother. Strange, the way fates remained intertwined even long after two people parted ways. Stranger still, the way her thoughts wandered giddily as she ladled water into a cup for Father, each trail leading inevitably back to Miroku, his fingers in her hair, his lips pressed to hers...

It would not do to approach Father so distracted. Struggling a bit, she forced herself to stand straight and focus on her duty which, right now, was delivering water. This she did, with mostly steady steps and an overwrought flourish, learned in service to Princess Kagome, that made her father chuckle.

"I get the feeling we'll be receiving another marriage proposal soon," he said dryly, once he had finished his water.

Sango felt her face heat; he had seen, then, when Houshi-sama kissed her. That, or he'd had something to do with it in the first place, sending her for water knowing that she would run into Miroku on her way back. She knew she could not deny it. That would only get her in trouble later on. And, besides, the color that flushed her face was due in equal parts to embarrassment and excitement. She was not sure she really wanted to hide it. There had been such _promise _in that kiss, sweet and smoldering...

"I think you're right, Father." She gave a wry smile, and got a knowing look in return. This time, when the proposal came - and she was strangely sure that it would - she did not plan to refuse.


End file.
